Furagone’s Wake Marc Gunn

Tim Furagone lived on Walklin Street
A gentle Sphynx Cat mighty odd
He had a meow both thick and sweet
And to jump off a fence he’d land with a thud
Now the cat had a sorta nibbler’s way
For the love of the herb he was born
And to help him on his way each day
He’d roll in the catnip every morn

A whack for the dog
Then dance with all laughter
Round the floor a rat’s tail chase
Jump on a shelf. Now what will we shatter?
Lots of fun at Furagone’s Wake

One morning Tim pounced on a fowl
Up on a roof top. His paws did skate
He fell from the roof, his ninth life gone
They carriеd him home his corpse to wake
Thеy rolled him up in a shredded bed sheet
And laid him out in his cat bed
With a bottle of milk at his tail
And a ball of string at his head

The Tom cats gathered at the wake
A fluffy Persian brought a fish for lunch
A Calico shared his tuna fish cake
While an Abysinnian lapped catnip punch
Then Kitty O’Brian began to cry
“Mreooooow, it’s sad to see!
Such a young cat to lose nine lives.”
“Will ye bite your tail,” said Paddy Furry