The gerbil may as well have been
a rabid rat of vermin ken,
when he got out of his new pen
and took a tour around the house.
Cute while in his close-wired cage,
he met with gerbicidal rage,
my wife, whose estimation gauge
saw him as just a monster mouse.
First there were the horrid screams,
which launched me from a bed of dreams,
into a hunt of which it seems
would leave me with a life to douse.
The gerbil cowered on the floor,
my wife just saw a charging boar,
"Kill that beast from hell's own core!
It carries plague, and flea, and louse!"
I bent down and cupped the 'pest',
returned him to his pen and nest;
'cause when he's there we like him best
and the wife won't have to grouse.
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