I've finally caught up with the cat
which has been terrorising my chicken coop.
That little black witch of a cat-
lays motionless in the sack in which I have it bound.
I'm watching it like God,
My eyes are every where
Counting the number of fallen chicks
all the pieces of drumsticks layn to waste.
I shall boil the cat in hot cooking oil and then leave it for the vultures to finish off.
No, that would be much too expensive.
I shall club it with the handle of my hoe until it becomes a pulp.
But that would be too exhausting.
Maybe i could just,
Leave it in the sack
And starve the little thing to death.
Quite a fitting punishment
For all the birds it has devoured.
But wait," what sort of witchcraft is this?"
For whilst i was busying my mind
About all the clever ways to kill a cat
The devil has clawed its way out of the sack
And outwitted its capture instead.