I've been very busy today. We had a visitor this morning, a friend of the pretty one. I hate visitors. Came round for coffee. When she arrived, I gave a disgruntled look and was about to clear off when she looked at Ginger Tail, who was shamelessly preening herself and said what an adorable pussycat she was. Honestly, there is no accounting for taste. Putting that aside, it started me thinking. "Surely not!" Who said that? How rude. Pussycat is a very strange expression. Now I've always thought that it stems from the funny scientific names that humans give to all animals - Pussus catti, but I was wrong. Amazing I know, but true. I've been doing some research and I've uncovered all sorts of things.Now pay attention you lot, because this is going to be very educational today. There are two schools of thought. The earliest reference to "puss" goes back to 1530 - half past three in the afternoon in your language, it didn't say which day though. It is a German word for cat. Alternatively, the Romanian word for cat is "pisika." So, you pays your money and takes your pick. I soon got bored with this, but I found something a lot more interesting - I came across a poem called "The Owl and The Pussycat." What's this all about I thought. Well, you've never read such twaddle in your life. Take a look for yourselves.
The Owl and the Pussycat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat,
A cat and an owl? How absurd. I saw an owl once when I was out for a bit of late night ratting, sitting on a fencepost it was. Gave me a very nasty turn I'll have you know. As for getting in a boat with the thing, well I don't care if it's yellow with pink stripes, you won't get me in it!
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five pound note.
Honey - what no prawns! The poor cat would starve. Us cats have no need for money. I thought everything was free, it is round here.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
I've heard it all now, an owl playing a guitar. How does it do that? It would have to use it's claws and beak presumably. All very far fetched if you asked me.
"O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are, you are, you are,
What a beautiful Pussy you are."
The cat may have been very good looking, but all an owl can do is hoot. "Hoot Hoot" it goes all the time. It would have driven the cat round the bend.
Pussy said to the Owl "You elegant fowl,
How charmingly sweet you sing.
O let us be married, too long we have tarried;
But what shall we do for a ring?"
Elegant fowl? Have you seen an owl? Ugly as sin, great big flat head, looks like someone has hit it in the face with a shovel. No self respecting cat would say such a thing.
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-tree grows,
What on earth is a Bong-tree? I don't know what the bloke who wrote this was on, but I'll have a large one - Ho Ho Ho...
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose, his nose, his nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.
Piggy-wig! Well this is getting sillier all the time.
"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling your ring?"
Said the Piggy, "I will"
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
As they bought the ring for a shilling, one can only assume that the pig had change for their five pound note. I thought turkey's lived in the freezer not on a hill. I recall hearing the one I don't trust ask the pretty one how long you can keep a turkey in the freezer. "About a couple of months" she said. "That's strange" he replied, "I put one in last night, and it was dead this morning!"
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon.
Pretty poor fare I would suggest. Where's the prawns and fresh tuna. You'd think a side of salmon would be appropriate, I mean it's not every day that you get married - not to an owl anyway. A runcible spoon? Whatever one of those is - I prefer my dish.
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand.
They danced by the light of the moon, the moon, the moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.
Surely paw in claw, not hand in hand. Wonder what sort of dance? I tried tap dancing once. It wasn't a great success, I kept falling in the sink. Ho Ho Ho...Well, that's my lot for today. Who writes this stuff? I may be a bit if a sceptic, but do you know, I don't believe a word of it. Still it's not often you turn up here for a spot of literature is it. What a life! Perhaps I should review Shakespeare next, although personally I've never seen what all the fuss is about - much ado about nothing if you ask me. AlbertThe(pussy)Cat.
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