When a cake is nicely frosted and it’s put away for tea,
And it looks as trim and proper as a chocolate cake should be,
Would it puzzle you at evening as you brought it from the ledge
To find the chocolate missing from its smooth and shiny edge?
As you viewed the cake in sorrow would you look around and say,
‘Who’s been nibbling in the pantry when he should have been at play?’
And if little eyes look guilty as they hungered for a slice,
Would you take Dad’s explanation that it must have been the mice?
Oh, I’m sorry for the household that can keep a frosted cake
Smooth and perfect through the daytime, for the hearts of them must ache—
For it must be very lonely to be living in a house
Where the pantry’s never ravaged by a glad ten-fingered mouse.
Though I’ve traveled far past forty, I confess that I, myself,
Even now will nip a morsel from the good things on the shelf;
And I never blame the youngsters who discover chocolate cake
For the tiny little samples which exultantly they take.
Reading Time: < 1 minute
