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And Damned Be Him Who First Cries 'Squeak Enough'
(A True Story)
My house it smells just like a bog
The reason is my dirty dog
She caught a rat the other day
Obviously thought it wanted to play
I didn't know quite what to do
The sight of it made me wanna spew
So I went up to my radio shack
'Can you help me breaker come on back'
Ken came on across the waves
'Hello Terr how are you these days?'
After a chat he came to a decision.
I certainly was in a hell of a position.
Then an old lady who'd been around for years
Went and confirmed all my very worst fears
'If your dog's been bitten you know what she could get!
You really ought to take her to a vet.'
Then Ken said with some consternation
'You ought to take the rat to the examination.
The only problem that I can see,
Is that you'll have to kill it do you agree?'
Well this I really didn't wanna do.
I ended up first going to the loo.
But then I concluded as I sat
That I'd have to carry out this awful act
So I went and got my cycle clips
In case it ran up and took some nips!
Alas the decision had been made
I went and clubbed it to death with a spade.
The problem was it looked quite nice
Even though it may have been covered in lice
And also I'm afraid I wasn't too clean
I missed first time and it started to scream
I really wish I'd stayed in bed
It may have been a rat but it's blood's just as red.
To continue the story of that day
I drove my dog to the PDSA
I was quite surprised at what they said
They didn't seem to care if the dog ended up dead
So I drove back home feeling quite numb
To dispose of the rat it upset my tum.
I locked up the dog and got a plastic bag
Then it started to rain. God what a drag.
I hoped the water would wash away my sin
As I wrapped up the body and put it in the bin.
I see myself now a Lady Macbeth
Out damned rat what a grizzly death
Just the thought brings on a cold sweat
The things we do for our god dam pets.
I s'pose we've all got a rite to exist
But I'm putting down land mines if this persists.
It's now been some quite considerable time
And I'm afraid it looks like Sheba's gonna be fine!
this a spade I see before me, the handle toward my hand?
Come let me clutch thee. I have thee not yet I see thee still.
Art though not fatal vision as palpable to gardens as to rats?
Or art thou just a digger of the mind, proceeding from the cannabissed brain?
"Ohwwwwhat do you want . . . I'm busy!"
"I may be asleep but I'm still listening."
"What exactly are you doing?"
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