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Poem

Mrs Briggs' cat.

There's plenty to do in our neighborhood,
with games and places to explore.
But you really should run, 
'cause the trouble's begun,
when you hear that "meow" at your door.

A cute little tabby cat sits on the step,
all fluffy and gentle as can be.
Just try not to be dim,
as you pet it, on a whim,
It'll eat you alive for its tea!

"Tiddles" belongs to old Mrs Briggs,
who lives up the end of my street.
She thinks it's a breeze,
but there're no guarantees,
that this pussy will ever be sweet.

Our local vicar thinks the damn thing's possessed,
and I'd say that he's right on the nail.
Surprised I would be, 
If I wasn't to see,
Satan's head poking out of its tail!

So if you see that tabby cat coming your way,
I beg you, don't stand there and wait,
Don't stroke it, don't pet it,
look, sunshine, FORGET IT,
Or that moggy will seal your fate!

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