Dick Whittington....

Dick Whittington and…


I tell my moggy that sits by the door and wants to go out
hunting in the night, that cats can only be taken out when
on a lead, because they kill sparrows and other birds; the world
is falling apart, banks are closing and the rich has to sell
their second yacht, while my terrace is full of bird droppings,
The cat is not doing its job;

am I supposed to clean up after them, fat birds feeding only
on rose petals and an ineffective cat that can’t keep order.
I’ve to get another cat one that isn’t tainted by bird calls and
not addicted by seed.

We have to change the world friendship only softens
the guardians who think they should eat from a golden troth
while we are served mud cakes from a plastic sack

And as I watch Tony Blair speak about this crises looking as
innocent as a house cat, it dawns on me that we really have to
cut off the balls of all male cats so they can’t go around
being paid for spreading obnoxious scent all over the place