Tabitha, so fair is she
Surveying me from gnarled oak tree,
Where her stripes merge with the shade
That boughs and evening sun have made.
While fin and tail lie on the lawn
She stretches with a sated yawn.
Oh woe is me, no supper plate,
Fish monger's closed for it is late,
I'll have to sup on bread and cheese
While Tabitha takes evening breeze.
Last week is was a piece of steak,
Left on the table, my mistake.
No wonder she's so sleek and fat
This queen of thieves, my tabby cat.
With nonchalance she looks around
Then lightly jumps to misty ground.
For there's a nip in autumn's air,
And beside the fire a waiting chair,
And as I listen to her purr,
I know my anger I'll defer.
Gold trophy winner
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