Tax Poem – The Mice and the Gold

Tax Poem – The Mice and the Gold

The Mice and the Gold is a tax poem, my first ever attempt at writing a rhyming story poem.

The Mice and the Gold


There once was a rich man who lived in a house,
surrounded by gold, no sign of a mouse.

His barn was full of diamonds, the roof lifting off,
he couldn’t fit any more dosh, not even in a trough.

He called on his driver to lead him away,
to discuss with the king his dark disarray.

Up, on a hill, the king’s castle was found,
with orchards and ponds all over the grounds.

At his arrival, the man was dismayed,
to see so many limos, richly displayed.

You’re not the first guest, how inopportune!
Now, we’re looking at a bunch of tycoons.

Inside the castle, there was chatter and strife,
what to do with the gold and the coins / now they’re rife. 

Will I share my good fortune with my worker mice?
the man wondered aloud, without thinking twice.

Throw him out on the street, the mob shouted loud,
we don’t want to share our gold with the crowd.

Clapping his hands and stamping his feet,
the king shouted loud at the mad screaming fleet.

Friends, do not fret, I’ve got a solution,
there won’t be no need for any execution.

Have the mice build a city up-on the moon,
promise them a share, worth nothing more than a balloon.

Our tower of gold will stand tall over the stars,
lighting up the whole universe, like a beam from afar.

Most of the mice will die and decay,
wages, we will never, ever have to pay.

On hearing the king’s plan, the crowd yelled with delight
having found a smart way / to deal with their plight.


Unbeknownst to them all, the chauffeur dropped eaves,
he was friends with the mice and knew of their grief.

Together they hatched a plan ever so clever,
they’d drop all the gold into the black hole forever.

With a smile and a song, they bagged all the gold,
the king and his friends watched it all fast unfold.

Go celebrate, you’ve well-earned your cash,
throw a party in the castle and give it a lash.

We’ll do all the work and won’t even mind,
though you were never, ever caring or kind.

The men poured rare wine, ever so fine,
and drank it all night, never noticing the decline.

The big black hole was oh so very greedy,
gulped diamonds and gold, thirsty and speedy.

The mice went to the moon, as they had vowed,
built a tiny gold city above all the clouds.

When the men woke up from their drunken celebration,
they soon realised the misery of separation

from gold and wealth and limos and fine wine.
The mice were all gone, and so were the swine.

While the mice lavish in luxury up-on the moon,
the king and his men now drown in their gloom.

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