Squirrels In The Attic Poem by John I Nash

At night when it is cold outside, I hear them coming into my attic, scratching at the wall to make entry one and all. The patter of little feet across the ceiling never seems to cease.

What are they doing up there, a party at my expense, that is what makes sense. Do they sing and dance or do they just prance.

I hear them tumbling and stumbling all over the place, games they are playing and they are staying at my place! No rent they pay but long they stay, I think they should pay rent these days. Bitter cold tonight, I think I should throw them out at sight. Then I think of watching them chase each other jumping from tree to tree and they do not charge me a fee for this show of agility a delight to see. I think I will let them stay just one more night and then I will chase them on sight, well maybe we will see.