SCAT

 

There was an old woman from Platt

who had a black cat named Scat.

Each day she arose, put on her cloths,

fed the cat, grabbed her hat

and away she would go, to the show.

Sheíd watch the scene, upon the screen,

Then arise, say her good-byes

and go to the store, down by the shore

to buy a big fish, to make a nice dish

for her and Scat, her lovable cat.

One day she came home

and found herself alone,

for he ran away, that Scat,

that rotten cat.

She was so blue, she bought a dog named Boo.

He loved her and she loved him too.

Each day she came home with a big fat bone,

to make a nice stew for her and Boo.

But one day instead, she found him dead,

killed by Scat, who came back, that dirty cat.

She grabbed her hat, picked up Scat,

slammed the door, ran to the shore,

threw him in, up over his chin,

went back home and lived alone.

Now what do you think of that?

Poor ole Scat.

But wait, thereís more, over on the shore,

thereís a big black cat. Itís Scat!

He didnít drown, but he left that town

and for days he roamed,

looking for a home,

till one night, by the pale moonlight,

he saw a most beautiful sight.

A cat with fur, so silky white, that he began to purr.

He said, "Hi, Iím Scat,

she said, "Hi, Iím Pat.

Come live with me by that big Oak tree.

So with a grin, Scat moved in

and they raised a family.

Three tiny tots, white with big black dots

and they all lived happily.

Now thatís the end of my rhyme

till another time.

But what do you think of Scat,

the dirty, rotten, lovable cat?

Lora Cox