As sung by Bonny Sartin Written by Ruth Cooke

My grandfather’s ferret was a beast of little merit
What lived out the back in a cage;
If you peered through the bars
You’d see eyes like little stars
All a-glimmer with impotent rage.
Oh the smell it gave off
Made you splutter gasp and cough
And its habits were exceedingly gross;
And it bit off anything it could reach
If you stood too close.

When that ferret needed feeding
Someone always came in bleeding
Or looking as white as a sheet;
If you opened up the door
It was all-out bloody war,
And that ferret was dead fast on its feet.
It could go for your throat
Through two mufflers and a coat,
It could savage a finger or two;
Then it would sit back with a self-satisfied smirk
Like Wellington after Waterloo.

One day my Auntie May
Went to feed the thing some hay
By poking it in through the wire;
But thinking that meat
Would be more up its street,
With a speed that you had to admire
It clamped its teeth around her digit
And went absolutely rigid—
Auntie May nearly went out of her mind;
Then the daft cow opened up the door
To try and attack it from behind.

Well when that ferret saw
That she’d opened up the door
It was out and upon her in a flash.
With a squeal of success
It shot straight up her dress,
Auntie May wished she’d never been so rash.
With its nasty little teeth
It bit her underneath,
In between, in the front and at the back;
And my Aunt May never smiled again-
And neither did my Uncle Jack!