Squeerill, squeerill on the sill,
oh how I long for you to kill.
Fluffy tail, beady eyes,
I dream of only your demise.
You scamper scamper fro and to,
a pane o' glass twixt me and you.
Squeerill, squeerill do you know,
that I shall make your squeerill blood flow?
I know not how, this I admit,
but to your death I do commit.
I wait and sit and bide my time,
and to myself repeat this rhyme:
Squeerill, squeerill on the sill,
oh how I long for you to kill.