The Cat Song

The Cat Song

A catterel by David F. Phillips

Sung to the tune of the Toreador Song from Bizet’s Carmen
[Play it here, behind the lyrics:]
[You will have to play it three times
because the clip has only two stanzas
and the poem has six stanzas.]

Some cats are stupid;
Other cats are smart.
How can we tell
These cats apart?
That’s a secret of the feline heart –
I don’t know where to start.

Sometimes we even fail
To read the tail,
And that’s the easy part.

Cats don’t eat salads;
Cats don’t eat brown rice.
Here’s what they like:
Sparrows and mice.
Cats prefer to kill their food themselves,
Though we don’t think it’s nice.

A touch of blood and gore
Upon the floor
Just adds a little spice.

Graceful to look at,
Soft and sleek to touch,
We like to stroke
Cats very much.
Cats will let us scratch behind their ears,
Rub their bellies, and such.

But once they’ve had enough
Of all this stuff,
They will evade our clutch.

Cats are destructive,
Scratching up the chair.
They like to shed
Hair everywhere.
We are useful servants for their needs.
More than that, they don’t care.

To them, the role of man’s
To open cans.
But yet we’re glad they’re there.

What are they thinking?
I don’t know. Do you?
Feel free to ask;
Answers are few.
Cats don’t even try to vocalize.
Just a hiss or a mew.

We can’t surmise what lies
Behind those eyes
Of yellow, green or blue.

Here is the secret.
Data’s all compiled.
Really cats are
Thoroughly wild.
Though they act like cozy little pets,
Docile, gentle and mild,

Inside, your placid cat
Is not like that.
A cat is not a child.

March 2013