Mr.Cat had far to go,
In the bitter, driving snow,
To find a shelter for his hide
Since he’d been cruelly kicked outside.
Poor cat! He slowly walked what seemed a mile,
Eyes quite green with unspent bile,
Leaving footprints dark and deep
When he should have been snugly asleep.
Oh! The log fire burnt within the grate
As Mr.Cat swore, full of hate,
Wishing he was sprawled out wide
And definitely, definitely, in inside.
‘Pass the pudding, raise a cheer,
Have more turkey now, my dear,
Pull a cracker, wear a hat -
Has anyone seen that dratted cat?!’
Sad he plodded, cross he wailed -
Sadly caterwauling failed -
Off he trotted, very low,
Slinking, sinking through that snow.
Oh! The passion in his heart,
Bursting his small frame apart -
The hatred for the feasts he saw
When he was kicked out of that door.
Pass the snowflakes, find some ice,
The freezing cold is not so nice -
Pull a tendon, feel quite sore,
The wind is blowing now, quite raw.
Mr. Cat, what have you done,
Why have you missed out on the fun -
What was it made those people do
The unspeakable to you ?
Oh! Mr.Cat, I wish you’d smile,
As you grimly walk what seems a mile,
I wish that you’d admire with me
This world of lovely soft beauty.
Please, Mr. Cat, don’t leave us here,
Enjoying all this festive cheer,
Find a nearby snowy place,
Somewhere to hide your coal-black face.
Leave the outhouse, leave the trees,
Skulk around our back door, please -
We need to hear your piteous miaow,
Saying you ‘want to come in now’.
Oh Mr. Cat, I see you still,
My chin upon this windowsill -
There, you’ve gone! Still grimly certain,
As I draw my cosy curtain.
Oct. 20001
A humorous poem about a cat being kicked out of the house at Christmas and then watched from an upstairs window by a child as it plodded away.
