Guess Who Poem by Mary Champion

You walk among the pigeons
with a grin as wide as Cheshire,
like you just got the cream
or swallowed the canary.
There you are, pussyfooting around,
working out how many ways to skin
a tabby - or a pigeon.
You are fat, but so cool
and, at last, you may have a chance in hell
to get a bird without a fight.
But suddenly, they are in a flap -
Your presence let out of the bag -
scaredy birds take off.

This doesn't suit
and to make it worse
now it's raining dogs.

Back in the house
you don't have room to swing,
so take a nap in the baby's cradle -
much better than your basket.

But you blotted your copy book -
while you've been away
the mice came out to play.
How they gloated -
like they wore your pyjamas
and sported your whiskers.
They played on the Persian carpet
and knocked over the Chinese ginger jar.

 
Your mistress thought a burglar had called.
The thought made her feel as weak as a kitten
so she took a nip of brandy -
several nips in fact,
then began a drunken warbling.
Intrigued by this unusual performance,
you leaped from the cradle,
tripping her up as you landed.
Helplessly she fell -
flattening you-
leaving you dead - killed by your curiosity.