And the Rodent, never stopping, still is mopping, still is mopping
Up the sinus-juice of Wombat from below your chamber door;
And his ears have all the looming of a Mouseketeer that's dooming
Thee to evermore subsuming poetry to health that's poor;
And your goal--to rout that mummy-mouse-thing glaring from the floor--
Shall be finished--nevermore!