There was a cat her name was PATCH-
IN the old castle the mice she'd catch
She'd hide behind the old stone wall-
Then pounce upon them one and all-
She was shrewed and she was fast-
Upon the walls her shadow she'd cast-
The mice would run -they would hide-
While PATCH would take it all in stride-
Sometimes the mice would win or lose-
The fattest ones PATCH would choose-
She ate them with great delight-
While some looked on in total fright-
Now PATCH is old and slow and such-
Pays not attention to the mice so much-
The castle now is cold and bare-
For PATCH is no longer there-
The mice still run and play-
about-''Good No More Cat'' They Shout-
I created this poem just before my cat PATCHES died of cancer.