To the Begging He Will Go Marc Gunn

Of all the cats in New Orleans, Tiziano begs the best
If he’s not begging for canned food, he’s begging to play fetch

To the begging he will go, will go
To the begging he will go

He jumps into my lap, And rubs his head into my chin
If I don’t start to pet him, He meows til I give in

He sits beside the broken strings, That I left upon the floor
If I don’t rattle them around, he meows at me some more

When I stop playing chase the string, He wiggles for me his tail
Then brings to me his ball to play, If I don’t respond he wails

SOLO

He climbs upon my legs, Where I setup my laptop
He circles once, he circles twice, Then on the keyboard he flops

I wake up in the morning, And he’s sitting on my bed
No wait! That’s Torre standing there, Asking me to rub his head

When I come home Torre falls down, His tummy to the sky
He rolls around and mreows a bit, Until I catch his eye