Number 136, Danger Mouse

I've finally prepared something for the publishers; they are getting about a dozen stories, some of which I have illustrated, some not.  I spoke to them to make sure.  I'm excited but nervous, but it will be good to get the package off in the post tomorrow, and see what happens next.  I really hope they turn something into a book, find me a good illustrator, get a partnership thing going.  There's loads more in me, and I'd like nothing more than to sit and write all day instead of driving the truck.  Also, its a job that can be done anywhere, so we could move to somewhere a bit warmer in the winter!  I'm dreaming. Stop counting chickens!

Here's a new one:

Danger Mouse

We seldom travel very far,

In our old and scruffy car,

But Rufus Four Legs loves to sleep,

On the back seat of the Jeep.

Sleep is maybe not quite right,

As he sees everything in sight;

I think he closes just one eye,

So that nothing much slips by.

A horse, a walker with a dog,

Even in the thickest fog;

He’ll spot them when they’re miles away,

And tell them off in his own way.

He barks and nips the window pane,

Time and time and time again.

First we worried, then we laughed,

When we realised he’s daft.

The same thing happens in the house,

It started watching Danger Mouse;

He snaps at creatures on TV,

Animals that he can see.

People do not make him bite,

But any furry creature might;

Best of all is You’ve Been Framed,

By which you know he can’t be blamed.

After all, it’s full of pets,

The craziest that real life gets,

Rufus thinks they’re really fun,

And licks the screen with every one.

He snaps and barks and curls his lip,

And gives a disapproving nip,

But bumps his face into the glass,

When on the other side they pass.

But he doesn’t seem to know,

They can’t see him even though,

His face is but an inch away,

And he can’t get them come what may.

Rufus may be pretty smart,

And he has a big warm heart,

But some things he’ll never know,

And of course we tell him so.

Rufus you are just a mutt,

You might think you’re clever but,

Leave the television be,

It wasn’t made for dogs you see.

We know there’s no cat inside,

No mice or parrots in there hide,

Ignore the pictures, they can’t feel

Your teeth or tongue ‘cos they’re not real!

© Stephen Saunders

Number 135, My Fat Chook

My Fat Chook.

Higgeldy Piggeldy my fat hen,

She lays eggs for me, and then

Every night I shut the box,

To keep her from the hungry fox.

Though the fence electric be,

It doesn’t seem to deter he.

Maybe he’s become immune;

I’ll have to make it stronger soon.

Higgeldy Piggeldy my fat hen,

Is one of several in the pen;

When it’s dark she makes her nest,

And settles down with all the rest,

But later on when things are quiet,

The fox turns up to cause a riot.

By then, of course, the door is shut,

And all are safe inside their hut.

Nonetheless the chickens fear,

The sounds of scratching that they hear,

And in the morning when it’s light,

The tell tale signs are there alright,

The damage caused by claws and jaws,

Where foxy tried to force the doors.

Higgeldy Piggeldy my fat chook,

Shut her eyes and didn’t look,

When through the little window he,

Tried to get a view of she.

Poor chickens didn’t sleep that much,

Terrified within their hutch,

But in the morning all was well;

Another dozen eggs to sell.

You can’t blame the fox I s’pose,

Seeing chickens just like those;

Bored with rabbits, bored with mice,

Any chicken would look nice.

Pity foxy won’t agree,

To take the bus and leave them be.

Move on to another village,
Other chicken runs to pillage.
Better still perhaps he'll learn,
How some money he could earn,

Then instead of chicken-killing,
He could spend a well earned shilling,
Buying food down at the shops,

So all that scary business stops.
Higgledy Piggeldy my fat hen
Might just sleep much better then.

© Stephen Saunders. 2013.