Nine Mice
by Jack Prelutsky
Nine Mice on tiny tricycles
went riding on the ice,
they rode in spite of warning signs,
they rode despite advice
The signs were right, the ice was thin,
in half a trice, the mice fell in,
and from their chin down to their toes
those mice entirely froze.
Nine mindless mice, who paid the price,
are thawing slowly by the ice
still sitting on their tricycles
…nine white and shiny micicles
Enjoyed the poem and love your mice.
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