In my little French house
lives a little French mouse
it eats my cheese and bread
but when I leave it dreads
that it cannot be fed
and it turns into a grouse
growing thinner and thinner
it pines and it screams
it is absolutely no winner
then when I return to Cazouls
it grows bold and demands
that I satisfy its cravings
with sausages and moules
it holds so thight the food
with its little hungry hands
that I to my face saving
gives it everything it needs
then the mouse and I are at peace.
(beginning a poem a la dr. Seuss
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