Off to work upon his bike
in early morning time
When suddenly confronted
with a loud spine chilling wine
He really was confused
what's the source of this alarm
Nothing sinister he hoped
to likely cause some harm
His heart was beating faster
as he pedalled with such fear
He never travelled faster
with the bike now in top gear
Then one day he saw the culprit
in the fullness of the light
He new at once it was the source
of his enormous fright
Suddenly it hadn't been
a figment of a nasty dream
A bird , the bush Stone Curlew, claims to be
the owner of the caterwauling scream
The bird is now revered
when it's heard throughout the night
Though sleep is sometimes ruptured
The bird is now invited, to screech with all his might
I have almost never heard such a racket as this
The snakes slunk off down the alley with barely a hiss
The rats ran away, the instant the cacophony began.
“God preserve my ears!” yelled an early milkman.
Yes it was the cat band, with horrible screeching and all.
We heard it often in the wee hours that no longer tranquil fall.
Who sold them instruments? I asked the guy next door.
He turned and pointed to the silent music store.
Of course this place did not open until ten.
These caterwauling fools would be asleep by then.
I ran into my house and put some bright red earplugs in.
Tried to sleep but could not do it thanks to their awful din.
A breathy caterwauling doesn’t evoke feelings glowing hardily
Impacting justification. Kindness leaves meaningful nuances
off-putting quiet responses,
surging toward unified victorious wins
‘xasperating your zaniest assemblies.
I caterwauled with the best of them.
I caterwauled with the worst.
I put myself in a side pocket
And I walked beside my purse
My moans had seen some better days
My woes had seen some worse.
The caterwauls you hear today
Are coming from my purse
“What a caterwauling do you keep here !”
Sir Andrew and Sir Toby – too much beer !
Listen. Is that a cat–er-wauling,
A piercing feline screech, a bawling ?
All our neighbourhood cats are calling !
Loud yowling in the pale moonlight,
Enough to give a banshee fright !
Why's “choir practice” late at night ?
Approach the window. Looking out
I see no sign of cats about.
Was it a dream ? Begin to doubt.
Our choristers have ceased their din
And now our moggy's come back in –
Was that you wailing, where've you been ?
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