There hangs a clock on the wall
Behind it lives a mouse, so incredibly small
When the clock strikes five
In its hole the mouse does dive
And through the wall continues to crawl

In the building the mouse proceeds to creep
Up support beams so very steep
It continues to explore
From the ceiling to the floor
Not making a sound nor squeak.

While the household restfully sleeps
The mouse continues to sneak
He seeks out every little treasure
Food of even the smallest measure
Crumbs that provide plentiful eats  

When the clock signals the morn
The mouse is completely worn.
He returns to his bed
To rest his weary head
Neither happy nor terribly forlorn