Pyewhacket is my dainty, pretty cat
I got her from a stray cats' home but that
Cannot disguise the fact that she
Was once a witch's cat, but we
Don't tell a soul
Cos no one would believe that rigmarole
I know she was a witch's cat because
At midnight she creeps in on silent paws
And climbs upon my bed
To check that I'm not really dead
Then settles down
To sleep beside me on my eiderdown
She hates like, poison, my old battered car
And knows, two days before, I'm going far
Away, and suddenly goes shy
And simply won't come nigh
Fearing that I'll pick her up And take her with me
Where the ancient witches sup
Her green, hypnotic eyes stare in my face
To keep me very firmly in my place
And, now and then, she butts my lip
To seal our starnge relationship
And when she purrs
She is not mine
She knows that I am hers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love cat poems. This is such a flowing one, and a pleasure to survey. Might I say just 'purr-fect'. Love Ernestine XXX