Poor old ginger tom
A poor old stray,
When I try to stoke him
He runs away.
Scavaging in the litter bins
For something to eat,
With no home to go to
A life on the street.
His fur all matted
Such a pitiful sight,
Out inall weathers
Both day and night.
Poor old ginger tom
May you safely roam,
If you would only let me
I would take you home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem