The Mouse Poem by Carole Lawrence

There goes a scurrying mouse
In and out of the hedgerow house,
His little home made so carefully
Of gathered moss and new mown hay,
Leaves of every shape and kind
For his bed they will be lined. Such a busy little creature
Another wonder of nature,
A soft furry body and a long thin tail
Why so long I often wonder,
It is a thought on which to ponder. Nuts are stored for winter use,
When the ground will be cold as ice,
He will be fine tucked up in his bed,
In the shelter of the hedge.