Ο ΧΟΡΟΣ ΤΩΝ ΠΟΝΤΙΚΩΝ
I awoke one night with nature's call
Out of the bedroom and into the hall
Looked in the kitchen, still half asleep
My gut clenched in terror, icy and deep
Twenty some rats were out on the floor
Four on the table, and two by the door
I stared in shock while they struck up the band
Formed into lines at their caller's command
Chorus:
Round and round, the rats they danced
On tiny feet they leapt and pranced
With rodent grace and vermin skill
The dance of the rats -- what a thrill!
They wore little hats and wee little shoes
Greatcoats and dresses of green and blue
They waltzed and tangoed and polkaed with glee
Lost in their revels, they quite ignored me
Up on the table were musicians four
With soul and with skill they commanded the floor
With tiny guitars and a fiddle so small
It could only be played at a Rodentia ball
Chorus
I woke with a start, heard no music was playing
Ran to my kitchen, a-gasping and praying
No rats there to greet me, but amongst all the clutter
Was a tiny glass slipper right next to the butter.
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