Our Pet's Pets Poem by Phil Ward

Suddenly our old cat's a spring chicken,
He's leaping about like a kitten,
It seems much more frequent,
The need for some treatment,
The fleas make him jump when he's bitten.

I'm a flea on the back of your cat,
And I'm not very happy with that,
I know I'm not blameless,
But don't make me homeless,
I don't earn enough for a flat.

Well I am the cat in the question,
Trying to make an impression,
There's no bed and breakfast,
For fleas that are downcast,
Regardless that there's a recession.