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THIS IS A POEM ABOUT “LUCKY” THE CAT By Gloria Lamb Jan 2010
What do you do with a cat that won’t eat? Do you give him something special, like chicken or meat? He drives me crazy this fussy old cat The way he behaves, he’ll never get fat. It’s lucky that he’s here and I’ll tell you why His mother left him all alone to die. Found under the Hall this particular day Lorraine was on OP-Shop, it was Friday, She heard a faint “meow” coming from somewhere So decided that someone had to crawl under there. A customer was begged to put on old clothes Then he searched and found a runt, so the story goes. He was ever so small, very weak and thin They made him warm, found a box to put him in. She took him home to our mum for special care, When he wouldn’t eat or drink, she began to despair. “What will we do to keep him alive? We’ll use an eyedropper with milk, he might survive.” Well that kitten did live and was pampered a treat, Spoilt rotten he was, given nice things to eat He’d have a sniff at his food and waddle away Then he’d look around at mum as if to say “I’m older now I don’t need all this food Maybe later I’ll eat when I’m in the mood.” You’d think he’d be grateful but that wasn’t so He was mean and nasty, schizophrenic you know He’d let you pat him, he’d contentedly purr, When you turned your back, he’d swipe you, the cur. When mum passed on she left the cat to me I try different foods to entice him you see We have half empty tins all over the place He even has custard that gets on his face. We flea him and worm him, have the vet check him over “He’s perfectly healthy, bring him back next October. I’ve given his needle, cleaned his teeth and they’re intact Pay the girl outside, $500 to be exact.” I almost fell over but tried hard to act calm Smiled sweetly, grabbed the cat and put on my charm. He’s 14 years old and I say “Mum why me? There are 4 other kids in this family” Still, what do you do with this cat that won’t eat Just keep opening more tins and admit defeat.
THE BUSH BEATS THE BOY OR RAMBO NO MORE
"Who's bloody next?" we said We don't want any pomp in this next bloke whose venturing, West of the Hexham Swamp." His First name was Greg His surname Knott, a name that wouldn't be forgot.
He came to us "to help" he said, His face it carried a grin, His muscles shone, his 6 foot frame, was lean, hungry and thin.
When he entered the lunchroom, Colleen got such a shock This poor malnourished boy from Newcastle deserved a better lot.
She started in with caramel tart, This didn't do much good, It did, however, make Greg (you dirty sods!)START!; he hadn't seen so much food.
Next day he handled Mr. Webber (or was it Weber), With Memories I recall, He talked so long, they got on well, He had no troubles at all.
Apple pie with cream, you know and many pieces of slice Cannot be taken without cost, Greg's figure was no longer nice.
Sue called him cuddles and Maitland heard we ran a book, (Ed.on his weight) They wanted polaroid photos, Wouldn't lay a bet till they'd had a look.
He's gone from us now you know, He did occasionally rage, We heard from him the other day, He now does before pictures for Jenny Craigs,
You've all now heard this tale and realise it's true, So just be careful in Muswellbrook Area, This could happen to you.
©Grant Killen 16/10/86 If you have the words to the poem “Bill Barbwire’s Murray Cod” please email us. |
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