The sun shoots up in the morning with joy 

A cat yawns and stretches ready to feast 

The lazy, snoring old man still sleeps in bed 

Royal highness jumps on the subjects chest 

Her old human does not stir at the blows 

Hungry, angry, she springs the clever move 

Taking her empty bowl, the beast leaps up 

Onto the man she wacks him in the face 

He wakes perturbed, and captures the she-cat 

Metal bowl of broken hope falls from her 

Into her cage she goes, upset in turn 

She yells “You filthy screw!” with her cat tongue 

The old man is not at all amused with that 

Food and water quite stale are served with spite 

Is meager and at his own pace, not haste 

The cat in the cradle pouts but munches