Technicolor

The little mouse smiled about,

While around him the animals rushed,

Cried out.

Their dream, their homes,

All lay in ruins.

A horrid disease had arrived,

Put paid to their warm cooings.

‘How is it you smile,

When the world around you crumbles?’

The warthog said, grumbling,

To the mouse, 

Who kept a-smiling.

‘The future seems bleak,

And the road ahead black and grey.

But I dream in technicolor,

It helps keep the blues at bay!’