There is a house,
A yellow house,
Atop a winding lane
Where dwells a man
Who drives to work
And then drives back again.
And in this house,
This yellow house,
Live thirty-six pet mice
Who help to clean
The travertine
And keep it looking nice.
And in the yard,
A great big yard,
Are thirteen hungry sheep
Who feed upon
The grassy lawn
And rarely make a peep.
A spider on
The weathervane
Keeps close watch on the sky
And always knows
If there’ll be snows
Or if it will be dry.
It’s curious
The way they live—
A happy, motley clan—
With each one there
Doing his share
The very best he can.