A lady whose heart as big as her boils
as ugly as rust, yet kindly through toils
for troubled she was and poor as a pitcher
her purse full of holes, but loving stuck with her.
And having this love with nowhere to store it –
her house filled with cats, the neighbors abhorred it.
For all through the day was scratching and crying
If they hadn't known better, they'd think she was dying.
Her house overflowing and no food to eat;
she cared for her cats like they care for heat.
And one day the folk came at her door wrapping
but she couldn't answer, for she was still crapping.
The folk weren't new; they'd been here before;
she'd leave them long often to wait at the door.
But now with no answer, the cats left to mewing;
the lady left helpless while she was still pooing.
The folk grew impatient and broke down the door;
the smell was of rodent mixed with cheap *****.
And all through their nostrils, the folk kept on smelling:
mold, cabbage and *****, then faintly a yelling.
The noise sounded desperate – a cat may be sick!
so holding their noses they trudged through the thick.
The yelling grew louder till the back of the house,
Lady needed some t.p. – instead used her blouse.
