She’s not averse to forty winksbut afterwards she wakes and blinksand to her privy corner slinksAs enigmatic as the Sphinxshe sits atop her tray and thinksup some mischievous new high jinksThe sound of Mum preparing drinksDad washing dishes in the sinks“So tired of waiting” wail the KinksThis rings a bell with hungry Minxwho from her empty food bowl shrinksas ice in Bombay Sapphires clinksIt’s not the time for forty winksYoung mice frolicking in the pinksbeware the coming of the Minx!