Monday, 17 July 2017


Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie! 

I am truly sorry
The roads department left ye
A trap ... of tar
Melting in the hot sunshine
Sludged in the corner
Of a car park.

You alighted on it
And it was your undoing.

A snow-scapper 
From the back of the car
Helped to extricate one foot
Then the other
So you could flap, flap, flutter
To the nearest bush
To die
Shackled in asphalt.

*** With apologies to Robert Burns 'To a Mouse'!!

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