The house-wife came with smiling face, Bearing in her hand a broom; With thoughts intent, and puropse bent On clearing up the room. She spied an object on the floor, Ne'er dreaming what it was; But close inspection soon revealed Its tail and head and claws!
What was the sound that pierced the air— Was it an Indian's yell? Or a wandering note from some demon throat From amidst the depths of—somewhere? Oh, no! of a different origin Were the tones that smote the air,— 'Twas only a frightened woman's scream As she mounted on a chair.
Oh dear! Oh dear! she had seen a mouse! And it entered not her head It would never, never do more harm For the poor little thing was dead. It seems the cat, in hunting, had Caught more than she could master; Of course old pussy never guessed That it would cause disaster.
The mouse was in mischief, so old Puss Had caught him in the night; But the lady never paused to think Whether it was wrong or right. She knew 'twas a mouse—a horrid mouse, And there she stood, dismayed; What could she do, with no one near To whom to appeal for aid?
She stood for what seemed hours to her,— (Her weapon was the broom;) Waiting in vain for some one to come And take her from the room. At last she thought of a beautiful plan, And making good her aim; Jumped, and landed two yards the other side Of the animal's prostrate frame!
A short time thence her hubby came.— He saw the signs of storm; And to his brawny bosom close He drew her fainting form. When he had searched, and found the cause— So motionless and stark; Then to himself in undertone He ventured this remark:—
Women may talk about their rights And wish for a chance to vote; Put on the airs of a gentleman And don the vest and coat,— They'd better be content to wait Until it can be said That they are brave enough to fight A mouse when it is dead!"
