The Mouse Befroe Christmas

 ‘Twas the night before Christmas, and there was no house,

just a small shack, built just for the mouse.

There was a large crater where the house had once been,

The screams of the dying set up a loud din.

The old mouse remembered of that D-Day,

When all of his children jumped into the bay.

None of them knew of the sharks in that water,

nor of the death of their quite dear, old mater.

Alas, that was last year, ‘tis over and done,

He pulled out a bucket and reached for his gun.

But suddenly, he heard a knock on the door,

He opened it up and saw cheese on the floor.

He picked up the package and looked at it close,

And saw something that cleared all his morose.

He stared at the tag tied next to the bun,

He read it aloud, it said “From Your Son”

At the label he stared a tear fell from his eye,

He breathed in deeply and let loose a great sigh.

And down through the chimney, who could it be?

It was his son! Smiling happily!

Laughing and crying and much java-jive,

The ceiling collapsed and buried them alive.

 The End