1. Briony

Being a mouse is not easy,

I can tell you that much for free.

You think you know of my troubles?

Then please, sit, I’ll put on some tea.

     

My name is Tillie Von Treeger,

A local to this large oak tree,

However my life is now destined

To be doomed to this misery.

 

I’ve tried to live in small measure,

With no strife or wild fantasy,

But those scribbling over-keen authors,

They really just won’t leave me be!

 

I have told them time again,

I’m not interested in their stories,

But they insist on abusing my name

In their books, (yes, it is four ‘e’s).

 

One time Miss Beatrix Potter,

Spied me eating in the grasses,

She grabbed my tail (the cheek!)

And served my picture to the (m)asses.

 

She held me as her prisoner

With her cooing and mad habits,

I don’t know which was worse,

Her voice or those bloody rabbits.

 

After breaking free from Potty,

(With the help of a moody hedgehog)

I thought ‘Yes! Now I can be free!’

But alas, all my hopes were backlogged.

 

Next thing I knew my legs were strung

And my eyes blind-folded,

‘Tell us your story and you’ll keep your tail’

Choked a voice, contrary and scold(ed).

 

Freed from the nursery rhyme addicts,

I turned my (attached) tail and ran,

But only to land quite precisely

In the crevice of Mr Dahl’s hand.

 

After being retrieved from the ceiling

Feeling so hugely harassed,

I barely missed Jarvis’ grasp,

As he begged for a word (oh, how crass).

 

So now you can see,

It’s not easy for me,

To live happily

In my small little tree

 

And now I must learn

I won’t leave in turn

As I think Rabbie Burns 

Is camped in those ferns, yet

Again.

The End

323 comments about this poem Feed