 | Collected poems by Vachel Lindsay |  |
WHAT GRANDPA MOUSE SAID
The moon's a holy owl-queen.
She keeps them in a jar
Under her arm till evening,
Then sallies forth to war.
She keeps them in a jar
Under her arm till evening,
Then sallies forth to war.
She pours the owls upon us.
They hoot with horrid noise
And eat the naughty mousie-girls
And wicked mousie-boys.
They hoot with horrid noise
And eat the naughty mousie-girls
And wicked mousie-boys.
So climb the moonvine every night
And to the owl-queen pray:
Leave good green cheese by moonlit trees
For her to take away.
And to the owl-queen pray:
Leave good green cheese by moonlit trees
For her to take away.
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And never squeak, my children,
Nor gnaw the smoke-house door:
The owl-queen then will love us
And send her birds no more.
Nor gnaw the smoke-house door:
The owl-queen then will love us
And send her birds no more.
| Collected poems by Vachel Lindsay | |