I walked in the house feeling fed up and fat,
And my old man told me he'd murdered the cat.
He said he had used my 38 shooter,
I thought he'd blasted my personal computer.
I thought my end with the mudcat had come,
That he had committed an act so dumb.
I would never be reading this BS thread,
I wholly believed that my mudcat was dead.
Then I saw poor 'ollie' stretched out on the floor,
My brown and white cat would breathe no more.
I felt so relieved my computer was fine,
I celebrated with good French wine.
I booted up quickly in anticipation,
And sat intently at my workstation.
Engaged the internet, on my way,
To come again to the mudcat cafe.
But then it happened as often before,
I could not get through to the cat any more.
I tried and I tried without success,
And got myself in a dreadful mess.
I had to wait almost a day,
To get back on the old cafe.
But it is worth it as you know,
When I'm here it's hard to go.
But now I think I should depart,
To go and play a different part.
To meet my mate in the local pub.
To have a bevvy before the club.
So goodbye all I'll see you soon,
At a festival some afternoon.
Or in a folk club singing loud,
Amongst our happy 'Folkie' crowd