Hardy's Cat

Hardy’s Cat The night was cold, in Dorchester, Fog threw his cloak around The old-town’s streets, stood, grave-still, The living, made, no sound. As the church-clock struck its midnight hour The towns folk, were all a-bed, Counting the twelve strokes with a shiver, T’was the time that raised, the dead. The curse of Hardy’s cat was now awakened That writhing, blackest thing That ate the heart of a man whose pen Could mark the very day of spring! He whose words brought pain and promise Whose poetry made the hare-bells sing. You see, now He in death,was laid out on a table, Requested by his loving wife To find the cause, of a death that came so quickly So he was opened, by the surgeon’s knife. But alas! The maid called out the doctor, And for a moment, he left, the chest open wide, And a large, black cat sitting, watching Jumped and stretched his paw inside. The heart of Hardy was quickly eaten, By a cat with now, bloody paws and head, Who then suffered all the surgeons hatred And was strangled, till he too, was dead! Then, the cat was sent to Hardy’s widow, With a note, to say where lay his heart, And the thing was buried in the graveyard Along with a human, body part! And so, this night is cold in Dorchester Fog, lays its murderous mat, And the towns folk listen, to the screams and wailing, Of a very, very, greedy cat!