The Masjid Mouse

Oh have you seen the Masjid Mouse
That dwells in Merry Lane?
The cheeky, cheery Masjid Mouse
The runabout-while-laughing mouse
Who dances in the rain?

The Masjid Mouse he has a house
Inside a minaret,
Because his roof is high and dry
Above the rainclouds of the sky,
His home is never wet.

I saw him once upon a horse
That drew a handsome gig.
He wore a crown of golden gorse
And ate a pie with apple sauce
While cutting quite a jig.

One day the Masjid Mouse set sail
As master of a brig.
Backwards he’d sail in shine and gale
A silver spoon was his taffrail
His sail a surgeon’s wig.

The King and Queen were sorely vexed
To hear of all his capers.
His Majesty inquired, What next?
And found his soldiers quite perplexed.
The queen she had the vapours.

The Masjid Mouse he loves to sing
And play upon a drum.
With London mice, and mice of Tring
With mice of Paris and Peking
He’ll laugh and sing and hum.

But when the Masjid Mouse comes home,
One thing he’ll not delay,
For howsoever far he’ll roam
He has a place beneath the dome,
Where he will stand to pray

by Abdal Hakim Murad


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