God and the Jolly Bored Bog-Mouse

Tom Britt reflects on hope amidst despair through Wendy Cope’s poem ‘God and the Jolly Bored Bog-Mouse.’

God and the Jolly Bored Bog-Mouse

God tried to teach Mouse how to sing.
‘Piss off! I’m not the sort.’
Mouse squelched away across the bog.
‘It’s jolly cold,’ he thought.

Stone-numb, Mouse watched the ice-bright stars,
Decided they were boring.
Cradled in roots and sodden turf,
Soon he was jolly snoring.

Mouse dreamed a Universe of Blood,
He dreamed a shabby room,
He dreamed a dank hole in the earth,
(Back to the jolly womb).

Mouse tried to vomit up his guts
Then got up for a pee.
A comet pulsed across the sky –
He didn’t jolly see.

Wendy Cope. 

Wendy Cope’s, God and the Jolly Bored Bog-Mouse is a darkly humoured poem that parodies the writing styles of some famous male poets (Ted Hughes, Philip Larkin, Seamus Heaney and Charles Causley).

But I was moved by the relationship between God and a bog-mouse. So I’ve decided to interpret the poem literally, to reflect upon how it captures the suffering many know.

First God tires teaching Mouse to sing: ‘Piss off! I’m not the sort’, he retorts. Praise won’t work; Mouse’s spirits are too low for that! He’d rather fend for himself, because this is all he knows. At least that’s what he keeps telling himself!

He’s unable to see the stark beauty of God’s creation:

Stone-numb, Mouse watched the ice-bright stars,
Decided they were boring.

Mouse is entrenched in his own surroundings: this perspective is all he’s willing to see, hear, feel and experience. Mouse is safe in the muddy bog, but he’s not fully alive:

Cradled in roots and sodden turf,
Soon he was jolly snoring.

Mouse finds a primitive comfort in the familiarity of his home. What will it take for him to see God’s glory? What is stopping him?

Even his dreams reflect his downcast spirit that does not know hope:

He dreamed a dank hole in the earth,
(Back to the jolly womb).

When interpreted literally this poem is troubling. Mouse acutely feels the weight of existence and he’s searching for meaning.

Waking from the dullness of sleep doesn’t help Mouse. It’s another day and Mouse is merely surviving.

The poem ends starkly, but hope is also present. Mouse’s lament is bodily; he ‘tries to vomit up his guts’. In this abjectly bleak situation God sends Mouse another sign:

A comet pulsed across the sky –
He didn’t jolly see.

I don’t know where this ending leaves Mouse. But in the morning gloom, God is there alongside Mouse.

That’s where God will stay.