To A Mouse

[WorldWildWifeFund]

This is my (loose) translation of Robert Burns' poem 'To A Mouse - On turning her up in her nest, with the plough, November 1785'. I've kept the famous lines 'The best-laid scemes of Mice and Men
Go oft awry'
largely as they are in the original (which you can see at www.robertburns.org.uk/Assets/Poems_Songs/toamouse.htm ), but have been free with the rest. I thought kids might like it (with guidance - the last two verses are sad in a more grown-up way).

O tiny deft and dainty, frightened thing
What a panic you are in
No need to dart away so quick
And squeal and jabber so!
I'm not about to grab a stick
And chase and kill you, No!

How sorry I am that human greed
Lost sight of Nature's wider need
And to that bad opinion leads
That makes you fearful
Of me, who too this earth must feed
Your fellow-mortal!

I'm sure that sometimes you'll go thieving
So what? You have to live, poor thing
Just one ear from the tons we're sheaving?
It's a small request
I'll get a blessing from the rest
And notice nothing missing

And your tiny house is ruined now
The wind is blowing its thin walls down
And no green moss is left around
To build a new one
And cold December winds are coming
Sharp and strong

You saw the wheat had gone away
And cold, cold winter on its way
But here you thought that you could stay
Cosy, little mouse
Then Bam! the cruel blade today
Cut through your house

That little pile of leaves and stubble
Has cost you lots and lots of nibbles
Now you're turned out, for all your trouble
Your home is lost
No shelter from the storms and blizzards
And cold, hard frost

But, Mousie, you're not the only one
To find that foresight's work has gone:
The best-laid schemes of Mice and Men
Go oft awry
And leave us only grief and pain
In place of promised joy

Still, compared with me, you're lucky
It's only the present you feel
But I can look back, and for me
There's nothing lovely
And forward, though I cannot see,
I guess, and worry