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A friend has drawn my attention to the following example of blatant propaganda:

Mice

by Rose Fyleman

I think mice
Are rather nice

Their tails are long,
Their faces small,
They haven't any
Chins at all.

Their ears are pink
Their teeth are white,
They run about
The house at night.

They nibble things
They shouldn't touch
And no one seems
to like them much.

But I think mice
Are Nice.

© The estate of Rose Fyleman




Of Mice And Me

by The Web of Evil

So I'm supposed
To change my mind
Because their jaws
Are well-defined?

I don't trust Rose's
Judgement here.
She's dazzled by
A nice pink ear

But as a basis
For deciding
Whether they
Should be abiding

In my walls,
It's not enough.
I must be made
Of sterner stuff.

And as for their
Nocturnal sprints
Around my house -
They make me wince.

I'm growing
Ever wearier
Of this daft bint's
Criteria.

She's clearly
Never had to claw
Their tiny shit
Up off the floor

Nor woken up to
Scratch an itch and
Heard one squeaking
In her kitchen

Or found books
Its hungry sibling
Has been studiously
Nibbling.

I am going to
Make a stand
Before my mice
Get out of hand;

Their sheer verminous
Persistence
Leaves no room for
Co-existence.

So I've hatched
A fiendish plan
To off them
Any way I can:

It can't be news
To all you boys and
Girls that I've been
Using poison.

Trapping them
Is also good
For if it all
Goes as it should,

With all the adults
Caught in traps,
Their infrastructure
Will collapse.

Then hopefully
They'll up and quit
And that'll be
The end of it.

So no amount
Of poetry
Will make a convert
Out of me.

A hundred thousand
Mouse Eisteddfods
Won't dissuade me
From my methods.

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