I lost my little bean plant,
I think it was a mouse,
I do not know from whence he came,
Perhaps from his mouse house,
He dug with foulest fingers,
Then leered with fiendish pride,
And clapped his hands with pleasure,
As he my poor bud espied,
He seized my little bean plant,
Thrust it in his pointy maw,
And never gave my grief a thought,
As he licked his craven paw.
But perhaps my tale of sadness,
Will not end with woe,
For the end of this rabid beast
Is one I do not know,
Perhaps he's in my garden,
Helping more bean plants die,
Or eaten by the red-tailed hawk,
With noble gleam in his eye.
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