With apologies to the Bard:
From a Fieldmouse
Muckle sleekit, tumblin', plummetin' beastie,
Oh what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou needs tae start awa sae hasty,
Wi bickering brattle!
Thon bird be keen tae rin and chase thee,
Wi' murderin' pattle!
Doggerel aside, the Bard's original last 2 verses of "To a Mouse" (an ode to a mouse from a plougman who has just disturbed it's nest) could have been written for this picture:
But Mousie, art thou no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley.
An leave us nought but grief an' pain,
for promis'd joy!
Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But Och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects drear!
An' forward tho I canna see,
I guess an' fear!