Poem By Ro'in Mao
There once was a grunt so doubtlessly fair,
Black cats came out of his mouth with much flair.
They spread far and wide
On Earth's every side,
And the inside of the grunt was whence they're.
More and more came, with no signs of stopping,
Crawling everywhere, mewing and calling.
Bother burgeoned high
With each feline's cry—
Whilst the people's blood began boiling.
They said to the grunt with livid vexation,
"These cats are a pest and a frustration!
"They clog up the streets
"And snarf all our eats
"Leaving none for our poor, starving children! "
Answered the grunt, "I won't do as you say,
"Nor shall I move my black mouth-cats away.
"They're your source of light,
"In your ware's respite.
"You should of me be damn happy and gay! "
At every chance that arose for the men,
They grabbed and shredded each cat into ten.
Their blood filled the roads,
The blocks and boroughs.
For the cats' death, murdered the world peace then.
They saw the need to deal with the grunt too.
They seized and threw him into a deep slough.
'Twas quite sad for him,
Since he couldn't swim.
Thus the black-cat puker to offing flew.