LUCIE-FUR & THE REAPER (certificate 18)
There’s a certain Lowoods barmaid—from up substantial hill
Who drives a big black cruel jeep when she’s out for a thrill
She cruises all the back streets and round the Morehall lakes
Just to hear that deathly screech that isn’t from her brakes
She doesn’t have a conscience—she splatters them with ease
Making sixty pence a dozen from the Oughtibridge Chinese
She smiles and tells the owners that their pussycat is dead
She swears she didn’t do it—it was someone else instead
Tortoiseshell or ginger---She really isn’t fussy
When Lucie’s feeling that way out you’d better watch your pussy!
She doesn’t like November nights and fireworks---It’s true!
Because people keep their cats indoors, and Lucie’s nowt to do.
She calls her Jeep “The Reaper” and I’ve even heard it said
That it goes from nought to “flat-out” in seven seconds “Dead”!
She’s mounted little pussy heads upon her cellar wall
And she sells Davy Crockett hats at a local market stall
She’s had this cat addiction since she first passed her test
It started with her neighbour’s cat (The first and still the best!)
Poor Toffee didn’t realize the danger from next door
He crossed the road. She saw him. Her right foot hit the floor!
She’s tried to do “cold turkey” but they weren’t up to much
And her dad just wasn’t happy with the feathers in his clutch
She sometimes takes a hedgehog and she’s quite impressed with rabbit
But she really needs a pussycat to feed her nasty habit!
So if your cat just sits there, not daring to go out
It may be that it senses that “The Reaper” is about
And if it catches sight of her as Lucie Steel is passing
Your pussy will be thinking “There goes the cat assassin!”