By Sharon L. Shannon and Priscilla Reynolds
Fred is dead. Alas, poor Fred is dead.
What do we hear? The sound, nearing, is Ned!
Ned led us on a chase, he came, he fled,
‘Til caught (but not dead) he squealed. My heart bled.
Midnight help for my cringing psych (and Ned)
He said, “Only for you…” and removed Ned.
Silence for hours ’til down the stairs came Jed.
Strolling, carefree, looking very well fed!
A dance on the floor, then back up he sped.
Fred, Ned, Jed … who is next? Prob’ly dear Ed,
Or Zed, to come mess with my spinning head.
I do not like that mouse named Fred.
I do not like the undead Ned.
I do not like the strolling Jed.
I don’t want to meet Ed or Zed.
I’ll share the last book that I read,
If I can bounce it off a head,
A small one, furry, gray, not red,
Doing the cha-cha by my bed!
© 2001 Sharon L. Shannon and Priscilla Reynolds