Some sculptor scoundrel, storytellers and the sort
Have slandered by folk, questioned our worth
Made our reputation dirt, who in the church live,
A slight the mousefolk of the chapels can not forgive.
Us: we live there as we live anywhere
We listen to the sermons from the pews
Prayerful folk who want so to be seen
Of being a distraction they accuse.
So the blood libel runs of my four legged freinds
That we are a mousification of old Nick himself
What cruel hearts can think of such things to say
To deny the lack of prayerful sincerity in themselves.
If I, a mouse, was prayer and a human walked by
Id see another creature of Gods creative hands
Then resort back to praying, or offer as the same
The admiration of his nature and work, He’d understand.
So next time you see a little church mouse
As it scurry’s by to get food for its young there
See another of Gods creatures just like you
Offer its admiration as to God another prayer!