We strolled along, the wife and I,
To turn upon a wood nearby,
And in the centre glade of green,
Beheld we both a dazzling scene.
‘Pray! what's that? ' Spoke Wife to me,
‘Well bless my soul, a Tomcat Tree! '
We stared thro' fur that floated down -
To land atop my balding crown!
‘Oh! look at them! ' The wife in cry,
‘The tree grows tomcats - my oh my!
So let's agree on one lil' thing -
To pluck a cat before I sing.'
So up shot I to pluck a tom,
But then he fell, as would a bomb -
To land upon the wife's left arm!
‘Hello', said Wife, ‘come see our farm:
We've rats and mice to chase all day;
For tea, lean meats in cold buffet;
At night you may stay quietly in
Aside the fire and sip a gin.'
‘Sounds good' said Tom, ‘but you must know -
I need some room for when I grow.'
Not seeing what this might suggest,
‘Why sure, ' said Wife, and stroked his chest.
So off we set to wander home -
A threesome glad, and keen to roam.
Soon we found our homestead land;
‘Look! dear Tom, ‘d'you think it's grand? '
Well he agreed and we, relieved -
Infested barns were well received!
So Tom went off to hunt down rats
And I prepared fine food for cats.
Through the years, we had such fun
With fluffy Tom, our tree-borne son.
But Father Time, eternal sage,
Had gifted Tom with finite age.
One dark night, he calmly lay
In peace to quietly pass away.
Poor Wife and I, we cried and mourned,
And buried Tom when day had dawned.
But summer came to guide us through,
And one fine morn, with naught to do,
My wife looked out to where Tom slept,
Then screamed with joy, and as she wept,
‘Our garden - look! ' She called to me,
‘My word, my Lord! A Tomcat Tree!
So that's what Tom meant - ‘room to grow, '
Space for this impressive show! '
Well, there it ends, my tale to tell,
That we were blessed with such a spell.
Our tree still purrs with feline hum
Each time we pluck a whiskered chum.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved