'Twas The Week Before Christmas...

...and every mouse,

had fled frozen fields

for the warmth of my house.

My wife found their droppings

and said “I'm not pleased,

to think that these varmints

are taking their ease

“inside my warm dwelling;

this outrage won't stand!

What will you do?”

Then I raised my hand...

“These mice, they are finished!

Kaput and kersplatz!

No way they'll survive,

for we have three cats!”

And then we beheld

our fat felines, all three:

Kitty,

and Zoey,

and the useless Smokey.

Disciples of Garfield,

were these pointless creatures,

with sleeping and eating

their most prominent features.

No help would be coming

from those worthless saps,

so I scrounged all around

til I found an old trap.

And later that night,

before mice came a-creeping,

I set the cruel deadfall

then got busy sleeping.

So early next 'morn,

at dawn's early light,

I sprang from my bed
to find what I might.

But what did my wondering
eyes finally see,
but a clean, empty trap
and a note left for me:

"Thanks for the cheese,

but what would be better,

instead of old muenster,

could we have fresh cheddar?"

"And what's with this platter?"
my mousy pals asked.
"We might have been killed
if we hadn't been fast!"

'Twas then that I thought
of the great Robert Burns

and his famous lament
to a mouse that he turned

Out of warm hearth and home
as he plowed in his field.
Did I want to partake
in his life time of guilt?

The best laid plans,
it is easy to see,
Gang aft agley
and I think you'll agree

There was nothing to do
but give them their cheddar.
After all, it was Christmas,
and what could be better

Than showing the love
God has for His swarm,
by letting them stay
inside where it's warm?

So out went the trap
in the cold, winter, night;
we're quite overrun
but I guess it's alright.

So to quoth from St. Nick
on his annual flight,
Merry Christmas to all,
and to all a Good Night!

Later, mcm fans...