Mr. Mouse, very tired
In his hammock he retired.
A hammock by a spider woven,
A gift from long ago.
 
His rat hole is dry, lies low,
Deep under the canes, you know,
But on the roof, by the wind blown,
A tall mast of reed has grown.
 
Large sails that catch the wind,
Are blown large and rustle.
Mr. Mouse has his daydream
He's sailing with the stream!