The Cat and the Hobo went off on a jaunt,
At midnight for a spot of small mirth
Both as dead as the above, of ribcage most gaunt
The Hobo wishing hard for more girth.

"So say, Mr. Pussycat", said the Hobo unyielding
"How bout a small race, for naught but a prize
Which I should haste to add is of insignificant size
All just for fun, old kitty unfailing."

The Cat's sharp ears pricked. A darkening rampage
Would thanks to his ears be of humongous advantage
To the felinous fellow of movements most scurrilous
For the Hobo, he thought, t'would be ruinous.

He came closer to shake
His hand on the deal
But no sooner was his paw benevolently outstretched
That the hobo had him in his arms most wretched
"Oh you Cat, for once in my life my lack is too real
Of you a stew my old friend I shall make."