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Poem

There once was a cat who hadn't much sense.
He liked to sit, every night, on a neighborhood fence
And sing, at the top of his not so sweet voice,
A medley of cat songs of his personal choice.
                               
He'd been told many times, in no uncertain way,
That he'd be wise to sleep nights, and prowl in the day.
Because near the fence that he seemed to like best,
Lived a hard-working man who needed his rest.
                               
So, late one night, in the light of the moon,
He climbed onto the fence and started to croon.
The sudden appearance of that unearthly sound
Aroused, from its sleep, the neighborhood hound.
                               
With the yowl of the cat, and the yap of the hound,
The midnight was filled with the maddening sound.
From the house near the fence, you might understand,
Came a groan from the neighborhood hard-working man.
                               
The poor, distraught man jumped out of his bed!
He ran to the window and stuck out his head.
He fumbled with this, and grappled with that,
Just anything handy to throw at the cat.
                               
He threw both of his shoes, some books and a broom,
And everything else he could find in the room.
The symphony ended abruptly that night
And suddenly all was peaceful and quiet.
                               
Next morning the cat limped home to his place,
And, believe it or not, he had a frown on his face.
Now, this might sound funny, but I assure you it's true,
Where everyone knows one should wear a hat--
--the cat was wearing a shoe.

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