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Catfish.
The fish van came from Arbroath.
Full of every type of fish you could think of,
flat fish round fish, oily and smoked fish.
He even had prawns, salmon and crabs.
All lying in trays on beds of ice.
The man would honk his horn three times
to let the whole street know,
know that fish was on the menu tonight.
My mother went out and bought some haddock.
The fish was put in greaseproof paper
and wrapped in yesterdays news.
Our cat could smell the fish.
He licked his lips and meowed,
flicked his tail and went in and out
of my mothers legs purring as loud
as a drill.
He was shooed a way but to no avail.
The fish was put in a dish
and set down on top of the kitchen table.
The phone droned and my mother left the room.
The cat could not resist,
he knew it must be bad
to eat from a strange dish.
But temptation was to strong.
When the deed was discovered
my mother went berserk.
She screamed a loud blaspheme
and we all came running in.
"He"s had it, had it, he"s had the bloody haddock".
The cat was shunned for days.
But finally forgiven.
After all, he was not to know,
know that it was haddock.
Not cat fish!
