The Kittens of Doom
by Nick Gisburne

In the mistletoe wood, where the cursed oak stood
In the shadows of night was a tomb
And inside it there lay, for a year and a day
The unspeakable kittens of doom

These were no simple cats; for their food they ate bats
Which they swallowed at midnight and noon
They would snare them with strings, rip their leathery wings
Before eating their brains with a spoon

But then such was their skill they left no bats to kill
No sweet morsels in traps did they find
So by night and by day to find victims to slay
They must leave their old tomb far behind

Then the kittens did roam, keen to find a new home
And some fresh tasty brains for their lunch
To the cities they strayed and on mouse meat they preyed
For their skulls had the same pleasing crunch

And the people did grin and with love took them in
For though evil, their faces were sweet
In the warmth of the house the occasional mouse
Was their tastiest, bloodiest treat

Now the mice are all dead but the cats must be fed
And their hunger for brains is still great
And together they plan for they know where they can
Find delicious fresh blood if they wait

For the newly born child how they purred and they smiled
At the sight of that soft little head
But when night gathers in, that smile turns to a grin
For by sunrise the child will be dead

We now live among cats who no longer eat bats
And who pace into room after room
Tuck all babies in tight, kiss them one last goodnight
And beware of your kittens of doom

2 February 2008