Nate the Great: a love poem (kind of)

A poem for my husband who insists on taking care of our mice infestation himself. Inspired by a nighttime reading of Green Eggs and Ham.

Nate is Great
Great is Nate

That Nate the Great
That Nate the Great
How I love that Nate the Great!
But he does not appreciate
My fear of mice and their mates*

I hate mice as they race
to corrupt, infest my space

Do they live inside the roof?
Yes, and they are not aloof.

Would you like them in your wall?
One died in there—quite the gall!

Crackers cookies, bread gnawed through
No wonder there is so much poo!

Would you like them eating fruit?
(They ate it all; the point is moot.)

Would you like them in the flour?
They chewed the lid with so much power!

In my closet, with such glee
I know they wait to devour me.

Would you like them in your bra?
Find poop there and shout, “Hurrah!”

Do you know they love my feathers?
Strew them with such obvious pleasure?

They live in walls and under chairs.
I swear they are the size of bears.

Nate the Great, dear Nate the Great
Now is the time: EXTERMINATE!
Clorox wipes have been divine
But, using them takes such time.

Think, (as I clean the poop and pee)
The Bubonic Plague came with their fleas.

Let’s kill them when they eat our fruit,
Let’s get rid of all that poop.
Out of flour, feathers, grains
Oh my gosh, they’re SUCH A PAIN!

In my bra, the roof, the wall
The mice believe they’ll conquer all.

But we can win, my dear, you’ll see
No need to feel we’re up a tree.

We’ll call a service that takes care
of this problem that makes friends scared.

They’ll come and plug holes mice have made.
When they do, let’s have a parade!

And others too will shout and cheer,
Perhaps even offer beer!
When you choose to obliterate
All our mice (with their mates).

*and their babies, too, 4-5 litters per year, scurrying around in the walls and attics, each dropping 25,000 dropping in their lifetime, but let’s not go there.