Back To the Barnyard
Back TO THE BARNYARD
I slip outside, my tail a twirl
where my whiskers test the breeze.
Such disgusting cretins so uncouth
and a few that make me sneeze. (HISS)
I slink and skirt past porcine ones
and the cows are crashing bores.
yellow chicks, forbidden fruit
or they’ll toss me out the door. (MEOW)
I pause to sit, stare down the cock
as he struts and preens for show
I ought to bat him once for luck
but those humans… well, you know. (YAWN)
Off to work at my specialty:
feline hunter-cruel and cold.
My fur goes up and my ears go back
For this mouse will not grow old. (MMMROW)
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