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