• Silky is thy coat; a mouse in winter,
    that of ebony, so soft and fine.
    She shies away against the snow,
    quivering under watchful eyne.

    Timid she is, her house untouched,
    betwixt the grass, in sand and stone.
    Of solitude she shalt ne'er tire,
    peaceful in her country home.

    Oh, but behold, the mouse of the town,
    aristocratic, and sharp in mind -
    he dines with class, and silver spoons,
    staining his coat with claret wine.

    Once did the town mouse visit the country,
    and the country mouse the town -
    the former exclaimed, "My, 'tis much too quiet,"
    the latter - "I do wish they'd pipe down."