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You ought to know Mr. Mistoffelees!
The Original Conjuring Cat—
(There can be no doubt about that).
Please listen to me and don’t scoff. All his
Inventions are off his own bat.
There’s no such Cat in the metropolis;
He holds all the patent monopolies
For performing suprising illusions
And creating eccentric confusions.
At prestidigitation
And at legerdemain
He’ll defy examination
And deceive you again.
The greatest magicians have something to learn
From Mr. Mistoffelees’ Conjuring Turn.
Presto!
Away we go!
And we all say: OH!
Well I never!
Was there ever
A Cat so clever
As Magical Mr. Mistoffelees!

He is quiet and small, he is black
From his ears to the tip of his tail;
He can creep through the tiniest crack,
He can walk on the narrowest rail.
He can pick any card from a pack,
He is equally cunning with dice;
He is always deceiving you into believing
That he’s only hunting for mice.
He can play any trick with a cork
Or a spoon and a bit of fish-paste;
If you look for a knife or a fork
And you think it is merely misplaced—
You have seen it one moment, and then it is gawn!
But you’ll find it next week lying out on the lawn.

And we all say: OH!
Well I never!
Was there ever
A Cat so clever
As Magical Mr. Mistoffelees!

His manner is vague and aloof,
You would think there was nobody shyer—
But his voice has been heard on the roof
When he was curled up by the fire.
And he’s sometimes been heard by the fire
When he was about on the roof—
(At least we all heard that somebody purred)
Which is incontestable proof
Of his singular magical powers:
And I have known the family to call
Him in from the garden for hours,
While he was asleep in the hall.
And not long ago this phenomenal Cat
Produced seven kittens right out of a hat!
And we all said: OH!
Well I never!
Did you ever
Know a Cat so clever
As Magical Mr. Mistoffelees!
Devon Brock Jul 2019
Me 'r aw gawn a' fer dawn
'cept t'grizzle that passed them bowts on
'n Tangier boys t' young to take t' wooder

Tangier boys and twist knuckle fellers
Gather up t' cafe a'four
fer a soda widda woodermen's beans
'n downa docks a'foive a'clock
for castin' awff lines 'n dreams.
Fer pops gawn out t' bay n' t'oyster beds
over thin lip 'rizon no more t'seen.

Nuttin' but bikes, *****, slap jellies,
'n them ain't hard favored come-ere's
nigh as peas wandrin' the uppards
'til black chug zaust sounds riturn
from Chrisfiel', 'nuther day
jingin' in t'pockets, 'nuther shuck
pall ready fer spoiders  n' hoi wooder.
Existential me Mar 2018
To see that which can not be visualized.
'Tis the white calla lillies dancing in her eyes.
Doing as jasmine has forever done.
Basking in the rays of the yellow sun.
Thoughts drift in fields of alstroemeria.
Different places, different faces...
yet familiar.
Loves flower blooming lighting the world.
Transforming her to a woman from a girl.
And with the coming of the morning dawn.
There she lies in the green pasture of daw-gawn.
Julie Murphy Jun 2018
Am a lass fae Govan
There a wiz born n breid
When a wiz wee a wiz playing tig oan the *****
N a split ma poor wee heid

Fae Glesga tae Fife
Wiz where we went
Tae a flat in Methil
That ma maw goat fur rent

Tae skool a went like
A scaredey cat, a didny know wit ti expect
Second year it the high skool
Wiz a bit eh a pain in the neck

Home eckie wiz the class
A waaaanted it tae be fun
Skool went well n a started wurk
Tull a wiz cooking a bun

Am a mammy eh 3 noo
Bit wit kin a say?
A replaced the telly
Nae mare tumbles in the hay

Ma weans are getting big fast
Aw gawn ti skool their self
But if a dont shake ma *** now
A might get left oan the shelf
Spoken like a true Glasweigan
if the end was to come
and the sun expired
and darkness erupted
but the spires kept on dreaming
you would hear me screaming
from coast to coast
but I wouldn't be the only one.

That steaming rock that keeps us warm
will one day be gawn
or so a Cockney friend tells me

— The End —