A Poem
"I'm no going to a poxy supermarket"
said Flash, the slowest cat in Lochinver
"Well look it's a wee bit embarrassing but
I am the only cat in Lochinver"
There's a population of 600 and I made a decree
that the folk would make sure that there was more fish for me!
I don't mean to be such a despot, a dictator, a grumpy old man
but look when you're as slow as me you've got to have a plan.
I'm told that I am descended from ancient Egypt
which is good because I am used to being worshipped.
I stamp peoples' postal orders and tax discs with my derriere
I speak French you see, a true Jacobin, until its time for tea.
Mrs Macleod thinks I go for a nap and a lie down
but I give it ten, then I'm off into town.
I make for the mountains to meet with those like me
The clan McCat are there, with dirk and dagger, to greet me!
"There'll be no bloodshed this day but we must away
to diminish fish stocks to allow the Post Office
to live and fight in another way!
The day of the move had Lochinver locked down
there was very little movement going round the town.
The supermarket had been surrounded by hairy cats in kilts
some had made themselves taller by standing up on stilts.
"We want our service to stay the same as yore
we're not a bunch o barcodes just to be scanned in store"
The manager was hiding behind a pile of tins,
there was a whaling and a screeching and a banging of old steel bins.
The clan McCat meant business but there was to be no peace this day.
The polis had been called, the cats they ran away
Red coats arrived called Campbell
meatballs on the menu again
the queues began, the supermarket had had its way.
Now in front of the fire Flash tells visitors tales of before
but he makes sure that they are standing behind him
with his back trained to the door.
No comments:
Post a Comment