The mill mouse and the field mouse

No. 12 on the route
 

In the mill of Oeffelt there lived a mouse

And it didn't starve to death there.

That mill mouse knew a friend outside the house

Who lived in the field outside the bowl.

That field mouse was skinny, and yet very happy,

but being alone he didn't like that.

He invites the mill mouse for a simple dinner

And who comes, with a thimbleful of wine.

On the table comes rye and a semi-dry currant

And a crust of cheese, quickly bitten.

But the mill mouse, oy, so much better used to it,

Doesn't like that frugality at all.

'Dear friend,' speaks the mouse from the mill,

'How you live is just shabby.

'Tis neat and cleaner than in other dens,

But so meager, ah your dis looks so stingy.'

'I suggest,' says the mouse, after 'a sip, unimpressed,

That you visit the mill tomorrow.

The mulder's birthday and after 't party,

you find crumbs of cake everywhere.

The party is at an end, the miller in bed

And the field mouse sneaks in secretly.

The mill mouse has already prepared a sign,

And for both, "the feast can begin.

There are crumbs of cake, there are crumbs of pie,

And the remains of sugared wafer.

But before a bite goes through a mouse's throat

jumps the cat of the mill on the table.

The cat's paw misses a mouse by a hair,

and the two manage to flee very quickly.

Back in the den, the field mouse knows: it's just true:

'Live simply and you have little to worry about.'

© 2021 Geurt Franzen

after a fable by Aesopus