I once knew a baker called Timothy
whose cat was a lardy behemoth, he
scoffed rats till he threw up.
I forget where Tim grew up,
his accent was Cornish or Plymouthy.
Tim fed his cat minced beef and onion
pasties and cider for luncheon.
He lapped up that scrumpy
then, like Humpty Dumpty,
went “wallop!” in drunken malfunction.
