John Richard Cornwall - The Cat lyrics

The cat next door is wearing His ornithologists' hat agin, Eloquent in gesture, eyeing The finches that perch prettily On the tendrils of the vine That grows adamantly In the back garden. His ears flit mechanically, And his eyes, split pupiled, Focous with that kind of attention Munch must have had for The Scream. But he will never learn, the finches With their sped metabolism Stir and create no sound As they lift off and away Somewhere else, the cat left With a lowing moan until Pat Lets him in and gives him His Felix, his ornithologist's Hat tattered and brimmed For the day as he curls Around the radiator And sleeps with perfect dreams As the finches reiterate Their deliberations, hugging The vine with perfections That would mirror only Smiles, colouring In bot heart and soul Forever and without doubt.