All the birds were singing
The thrushes and the blackbirds,
Various tits and an eagle in flight,
Were transported to birdy heaven,
By a truly wondrous sight.
Below, on verdant pastures,
Lay Tiger, a castrated tom,
Sporting a new cat collar,
And wearing it with aplomb.
In his long, dastardly career,
He'd struck fear in many a sparrow,
Tiger could scale the greatest heights,
And fit into gaps both wide and narrow.
But the birds had clubbed together,
To soil his reputation,
And now the only unknown factor,
Concerned his burial or cremation.
Overnight his trusty cat flap,
Had been wired up to the hilt,
To atone for his feline misdeeds,
And all the blood he'd spilt.
No matter a cat's religion,
Whether Baptist, Jew, or Quaker,
When his cat flap's linked to the National Grid,
He must prepare to meet his maker.