Locked in a cave
With the sun and a knave
And a cat with grumpy demeanour.
It could be our tomb
Like that time in the womb,
But the walls were a little less cleaner.
The sun searched for a door
Though, found nothing but floor,
A carpet and an old lollipop stick
There was a joke on the front,
Which made the grumpy cat grunt:
He was starting to get on my wick.
The knave gave a holler
In hope soon there would follow
A group with tin hats and bright lights
But nothing came back
Not a Jill or a jack!
It was certainly one of those nights.
Then a plan was created,
Which the cat duly hated,
Whereby we’d dig for all our small worth.
I scratched and I dug,
Like a burrowing bug,
A tunnel wide enough to allow for my girth.
When said tunnel was done,
And we were black from our fun,
We all crawled down the space in a line.
We soon arrived in Peru,
Where the sky was so blue,
And the Inca folk treat us real fine.
Three years soon sped,
As they are so easily led,
When it was decided we’d go our own paths.
We thanked our dear hosts,
With dance acts and large toasts
And returned to our homes for hot baths.
What became of the others?
Well, I’ll tell you, sisters and brothers:
The knave quietly returned to the pack.
The cat sold his story
For the fame, money and glory,
Whereas the sun flitted off to dawn’s crack.
All in all it was fun,
My time with the cat, knave and sun,
But I have no wish to do it once more.
I’ll sit comfy in my house
Like a right royal mouse and
Be glad that my room has a door.