molly 1481

"Upon a golden sunshine morning, Little cloud white came a calling The Sun said he who are you to me To spoil my golden liberty. Little cloud said he, don't mind me I'm only wee and here to keep you company The Mouser The night stood still, a winter scene lit by moon and Arctic sheen Snowdrifts deep and fields of white old Jack Frost had kissed the night, In the dark and out in cold three wood mice were feeling bold, Into the house they silent crept, around log fire old micer slept Oh that fire was warm and bright to the Mice a welcome sight, Old Micer stirred and spied the three jumped a mile and had to flee. Now in the cold old Micer crept and by the fire the Mice they slept.