Thorn Palace Snout

Nestled into snow and hill
Refuge in a thorny frill
Lay the most confusing mouse
Reminiscent of a louse
Lay he there upon the mat
Of thorn and snow he called Furflat
Without the green's confusing stare
He didn't know or even care
Which way the wind doth howl or blow
For all he cared was of the snow
And though it cold and crisp and crinkled
The mouse was not a bit dismingled
He simply closed his eyes and thought
Of tender apples, broiled and hot.