Three little kittens
They lost their mittens
And they began to cry
“Oh Mummy dear, what can we do,
Our mittens we have lost.”
“You careless buggers!” Mother said,
“D’you know what mittens cost?”
“I buy you the best and what do you do?
“Just throw ‘em on the ground.
“Get out there! Scour the streets, you three
“And don’t come back ‘til they’re found!
“They weren’t just ordinary mittens
“They were the best that money can buy
“Bloody right you can cry!”
“You’ll be crying in a minute
“When you feel the back of my paw
“Now don’t just stand looking gormless
“Go search, like I told you before.”
So off they went,
Those hapless kits,
They hunted all around;
The streets, the lanes, the alleyways,
Every inch of town,
The pubs and clubs, the tips and skips,
By the stream; along the dyke -
But could they find those mittens?
Could they heck as like?!
But reaching the end of a fruitless day,
Thinking their hopes were sunk,
They looked around at what they’d found,
The rubbish and the junk.
They hadn’t find those mittens
And they cursed their rotten luck,
But soon those kittens cottoned on;
There’s money where’s there’s muck.
And so they stayed up all the night,
Or so I’ve heard reported,
Drafting out a business plan;
By morning they were sorted.
Those three set up in business
(No point in being bitter)
A company they founded
And they called it “Kitty-litter”.
So every night they scoured the streets,
Not looking for their mitts
But with their cat’s-eyes open
For other useful bits.
They gathered in the property
That others had mislaid
And returned it to their owners
Once, of course, they had been paid.
And what those kits could not return
They recycled or re-sold.
It didn’t take them long to find
They’d found their pot of gold.
They soon expanded nationwide;
Employed a thousand moggies
And, in the spirit of equality,
A couple of dozen doggies.
And when they’d reached the very top
They went back home to Mum
To show that pushy pussy cat
Just how far they’d come.
They wore their best designer gloves;
They purred with pride those kittens.
Mum through the cat-flap caterwauled,
“You’ve still not found them mittens!”