Mister Cat had far to go,
In the bitter, driving snow,
To find a shelter for his hide
Since he’d been cruelly kicked outside.
Poor cat! He walked a long slow mile,
Eyes quite green with unspent bile,
Leaving footprints dark and deep
Instead of being snugly asleep.
Oh! The log fire burnt within the grate
As Mister Cat swore, full of hate,
Wishing he was sprawled out wide
And definitely in inside.
‘Pass the pudding, raise a cheer,
Have more turkey now, my dear,
Pull a cracker, wear a hat –
Has anyone seen that blasted cat?!’
Sad he plodded, cross he wailed –
Sadly caterwauling failed –
Off he trotted, very low,
Sinking, slinking through the snow.
Oh! The passion in his heart,
Bursting that small frame apart –
The hatred for the feasts he saw
As he was kicked out of that door.
Pass the snowflakes, find some ice,
The freezing cold is not so nice –
Pull a tendon, feel quite sore,
The wind is blowing now, quite raw.
Mister Cat, what have you done,
Why have you missed out on the fun –
What was it that made them do
This unspeakable to you ?
Oh! Mister Cat, I wish you’d smile,
As you grimly walk your long slow mile,
I wish that you’d admire with me
A world of lovely snow beauty.
Please, Mister Cat, don’t leave us here,
Enjoying all this festive cheer,
Find a nearby snowy place,
Where you can hide your coal-black face.
Leave the outhouse, leave the trees,
Skulk around the back door, please –
We need to hear your piteous miaow,
Saying ‘I want to come in now’.
Oh Mister Cat, I see you still,
My chin upon this windowsill –
Ah, you’ve gone! Still grimly certain,
As I draw my gingham curtain.