Once upon a time there was a little mouse,
home to a few poplar leaves.
He built a house from it
it was not very strong.
Trouble has happened, so terrible,
blown by the autumn breeze.
The wind blew his house far away,
bed, chair, table, pillow.
Winter is coming soon,
where will the mouse live?
No home, what a shame,
he finds not on earth nor in heaven.
Well, if not, I'll look,
I'm not spending the winter outside.
So he quickly picked up his feet,
was looking for his new house.
Walking on the edge of the forest,
a box was lying there, he saw it.
Ugly, littering man,
threw it there this morning.
It's not nice to litter,
You shouldn't do that,
but this time it was good for the mouse,
even twenty people can fit in here.
He lined it with grass and wood,
was happy with his lacquer.
If you see something like this, peep in,
to see if there is room for a small animal.
If there is nothing in it,
should then be put in a bag.
You can take it to the bin,
you have done well for today.
The little mouse was happy,
there's room for lots of little mice.
They don't feel the cold wind,
will get through the winter.
