A note about Kipper, the third most beautiful feline in the Universe.

Kippers Song


I mew at the morning moon

Too soon arrives the noon

Our Sun melts the beautiful dew

A new day is due

Time takes its own course, of course

We follow the river back to the source

Of light, mystery, black holes as a resource

This cat has no master, akin to the horse


Silent Siamese Sian

She secretly sleeps

Some seventy six spiral stairs seeming sneaky, stealthy

So snow surrenders to Sunday’s Sun and steams somewhat on soft soil

Smoke rising in the pale yellow haze

Rays that would surely seem shallow to some distant sacred shining star

That attract a cats lazy gaze

Not far past dawn

This feline’s yawning

Clearly the sun’s curfew is done

A magnificent spectacle on the lawn

But nothing to write home about, son

Indeed, nothing to wake up for, even, Sian

I’ll put a paw over my nose to please my pawn master

When he wakes from his slumber, if he ever does so

Prawn basket, my dream before the morn entered the temple

A basket full of prawns…they must all be for Sian!


My master is plain lazy

But I love him so

Cats calling Humans lazy?

I wish he was a robot though

He breathes down my neck

Through his spectacular nose

Who knows the spectacle

Of those pale shallows?

I read my masters dream

Master, wake up!

Oh you woke me up again

Roger, really

It’s like coming home

When I sit on your lap

While this lyric is easy

For you are reciting from a cat!

Save me do

A tank! No

My master sees no sunlight

Vitamin D deficiency

Oh, do ray me

Or even

Doh ray me me do

That’s nice

That’s what I think as I watch…

As we watch cricket

What’s cricket?

Did America invent it?

Take me down the pub

I want to get laid

That’s me in three months

And so this tail ends


So see you soon

On my lap


Yeah OK?



You stare at me too much

Am I your affection or your desire?

I’m proud of that bit

Master i’m dreaming!

I love it when you sing for me

And I love you, Roger

You have your ways, I suppose 8)

Please give me fresh fish on Friday

I’ll go to the market with you

If i’m not dreaming, i’m daydreaming

As I am interrupted in the midst of a dream

About my mummy, master

I miss her so


May I have some wine?

And some cheese?


Prawns on Wednesday, please

Oh Roggy?

Write a song about me?

Oh, after a ciggie

I dont admire them 

Because it makes u smell

And act funny

Do you put them over me?

What could be more important than me?


Pitiful Mew!


Make the ciggie the reward, not…

Oh I meant

Cig as reward, not the fuel.

Perhaps not a reward

For not smoking!

Master it’s the end of the page!

Author: Roger Francis AKA rog@littleandromeda.com Android

Musician, Artist, Writer. Telepath. Psychic. Schizophrenic. Auteur. Cat Lover. Cheap, Seedy Quality. Undiagnosed For The Truest State. Happy. Free. Poor. Weird. Eccentric. Single. R. That’s R Hippy, in a PICU

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