The Cold Call

A wayward Christian Soldier
Came buzzing at my door
Life’s problems to discuss with me
Like pestilence, famine war

Pestilence, famine, war, I said
To these I am no stranger
In fact a plague of dog and cat
Puts me in constant danger

Let me tell you Soldier Girl
About my whiskered plague:
They’ve eaten me from home and hearth
And thus a famine made

And from the depths of petly famine
Comes the breath of war
They say there will be petly blood
Spilt here upon the floor

And cat has moblised her best
Her troops are undivided
The doggish cavalry is at rest
Their rout could be decisive!

The potted plants will side with dog
(They’re sick of being eaten)
The shoes and squeaky toys with cat
(The dog will be their victim)

And so the nations of the flat
Will soon become quite tribal
Aligning now with dog and cat
(Goldfish support is vital)

They’ll join upon the Plane of Rug
In deepest South Lounge Room
One side will sample victory
The other certain doom

And history and songs of bards
Will sing of The Great War
That pitted force of dog and cat
Right there upon the floor

So. As you understand, right now,
I’m planning reconstruction.
The postwar period’s coming soon,
I don’t need the disruption

Of early morning Christian Soldiers
Pushing their own barrow
So kindly bugger off my dear –
And don’t come back tomorrow.

Posted: June 26th, 2010
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