13Grey Cat & The Blackbird
©2002 Gibbens/Weston

One grey cat sits on the wall
And one blackbird’s whistling.
That old grey cat starts to call,
“Sweet blackbird, are you listening?
Teach to me the wooing tune
You sing to your brown lady.
So beneath the next full moon
I’ll woo my tabby lady.”

“Dear grey cat, I’m not so mad
As to come and sit beside you,
For in fifteen seconds flat
I’d be singing from inside you.”
“Maestro, on my solemn word,
My hunger is not fleshly.”
“Well, then,” says the wily bird,
“There’s something you must pledge me.

Give me something that ensures
I’m not your delicatessen.
Lay aside your silver claws
While I give my lesson.”
So he put by his silver claws
And stood with paws of velvet.
“Still I fear your daggered jaws,”
The bird cried in the thicket.

“Mr Mogg, please put aside
Those teeth so sharp and pearly.
It would grieve my sweet brown bride
Should my life end early.”
So the silly cat complies
And when he’s done disarming –
“Still I fear your emerald eyes;
Your emerald eyes are charming.

It may be they will hypnotise:
Put them out a while.”
So he puts out his emerald eyes
And adds them to the pile.
Down the blackbird flew and sat
Beside that old tomcat.
“Oh, but you can’t sing, Sir Cat,
In that smoky jacket.

Take it off,” the blackbird bid,
“And I’ll give you my tailcoat.”
So that’s what the poor cat did
And he stood there blind and naked.
The blackbrid took the fur and teeth,
The eyes of flashing opal,
And with his silver claws unsheathed
He swallowed up his pupil.

Then he took his own sweet time
And he strolled off up the garden,
Sat there in the pale moonshine
And sang a snatch of Haydn.
He sang a snatch of William Byrd,
Of Schubert and Debussy,
And sweetly as he sang and purred,
He wooed the tabby pussy.

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