The Christmas cat 

You all know the cat of Christmas

– that cat was huge and fat. 

No one knew where he came from 

nor where he was at. 

He opened his glowering eyes wide, 

each like a burning gem. 

– It wasn’t for the faint of heart

to face them. 

His back was arched, his breath foul, 

like barbs his whiskers keen, 

and his claws more awesome than anything

you´ve ever seen. 

And waving his wicked tail

like a whip threateningly, 

he was either up in the valley

or out by the sea. 

He roamed, fierce and famished,

in freezing Christmas snow, 

chilling every human heart, 

both high and low. 

The sound of his monstrous meowing

meant that he craved a prize. 

And everyone knew he fancied folks

but frowned on mice. 

He savaged the poorest people

– too poor to get anything new

for Christmas – those who drudged all day

as driven to. 

From them he ever so often

took all their Christmas food, 

and then he would eat them also

– If he could. 

So the women labored long days

at the loom, and they spun and knit

that the children might soon have something

to show for it. 

For the cat mustn’t come there prowling

and catch their daughters and sons. 

They had to be given garments

by grown – up ones. 

And when candles were lit at Christmas

and the cat peeked inside,

the kids, strutting their gifts, stood there

all starry – eyed. 

Some may have had new shoes on, 

some a blouse with a cuff. 

Getting any useful gift

was good enough. 

For puss couldn´t ever eat those

who got anything new to wear. 

Then he uttered an ugly hiss

and was off from there. 

If he’s still around, I know not, 

but nothing would be his fare

if everyone could on Christmas have

new clothes to wear. 

So maybe you´ll have a heart

and give help to the weak and small, 

for numerous needy children 

get nothing at all. 

And searching for those who suffer

from shortage of light for true, 

may perhaps make your Christmas

merry, too.