Catwords: Shakespearian
Waldo & Olivia
One of the joys of living with books
The cats have been learning Shakespearean plays.
We've hardly seen them for days and days,
Now that they've finished and scooped up the tales
It's one long story, with wimples and veils,
And shelves for a backdrop and cats in starched ruffs
With books to stand on, while they strut their stuff.
They speak out their lines in long catty yowls,
Emoting and gloating, and wringing wet towels.
As Lady Macbeth, with her tail in a knot
Olivia cries: "Out mouse! Out spot!"
They switch into witches with cauldrons of oil,
Casting spells and hexes, full of trouble and toil.
It's a great game, this Shakespeare, with a skull and a bell.
Alas, poor Ophelia, she fell in the well
with her cat bib all twisted and dirtied with pie.
Me thinks they've read Mother Goose on the sly.
It seems that poor Shylock has squeezed his last dime
And Romeo will live to love another time.
Puck has stumbled and broken his crown
As Rosencrantz and Guildenstern came tumbling down.
It's a fine little play, with stuffed mice thrown in,
And long low growls, and tails in a spin,
With a King who leers at the cats in disdain
But learns his lesson when he's thrown him from a train.
Then, Waldo, as Iago, keeps his mouth mum
While flipping his tail and beating a drum.
With pratfalls, and cat calls, from low window seats
We see all the action and miss not a beat.
Then they're off to the green room to drowse for awhile.
All their world is a stage, where they play without guile.
It's Waldo and Olivia acting out each part
Of a plagiarized Shakespeare. It's a story with heart.
Crystal
