Eeww-eeww-eeww-eeww!
Wacky and strange fey cat sits above the fence;
Strings holding him aloft--absent.
What is keepin' him up there?
Hovers like he's Cheshire, right in midair.

Fey-cat funk. Flyin' like a bat,
A feral Tom-Cassandra, he's prophesying that
Every dog'll turn into a keening man
And get to croon in a garage band.

Give that cat a bath!

He don't bother chasin' those mice down.
He casts a spell on 'em, then they die of fright;
He just picks 'em up and takes a leisurely bite.
I guess you'd say he's got the evil eye,
In the catbird seat, in the sky.

This kitty's real sh*tty and strange and wild.
His caterwaul's squalled a thousand miles.

He ain't bothered by gated compounds.
Appears in kitchen, apparition at night,
Finds your filet and the feline's fangs fetch a bite.
Laps up all your booze and lifts his tail high--
In the mornin', floorin's not dry.

Sniff--scent sense clenches; stench is plenty vile.
Feet find cat crap shat bat-guano style.