The cats had used up all their lives
They’re scratching at the door
It’s been a while since they’ve eaten
And now they’re wanting more.
They had to dig their bodies out
They’re wanting to be fed -
There’s Ed, Mildred, and Fred and Ned
And they’re the living dead.
The living dead felines are here
I wonder what they eat;
For now they’re licking dirt from
Desiccated claws and feet.
I can’t find the can opener
It’s driving me insane
And I hope that what they’re yearning for
Is not my flustered brain.
I get so crazed and sickened
That I actually vomit
And the cats lap it quite greedily
Before I can get the Comet.
They have returned to my back door
After lives one through nine
And much to my surprise they came
With Ernest Borganine
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