The Ducking Fog And Cooking Fat
The ducking fog is falling down,
so is the cooking fat.
This is not about the weather
but about my dog & cat.
They've both been at the cider
I left beside my bed.
Now they're hearing voices
right inside their head.
Mother is quite angry,
they've messed the kitchen floor.
And the cat has ate the chicken,
while the dog has scratched the door.
Their eyes are somewhat glazed
as the cider kicks right in.
I'll have to explain to mother,
but where do I begin?
You see the cooking fat is my pet
and the ducking fog is hers.
She likes the way her pet barks,
I like the way mine purrs.
"It was the dog who made all this mess"
I said with cat in arms.
My mother bucking deleived me,
she could not resist my charms.
Now the dog is in the kennel
and the cat is by the fire.
As I sit and drink more cider
I am such a bloody liar!
Copyright © Bob Fiddaman
(Posted with permission)
Visit Bob's Poetry Site for more poems at: