Dinsdale Reed


True, my name is Dinsdale
And yes, I am a cat,
But I seldom wear pyjamas
And I never wear a hat.

I’ve neither been to Brighton
Nor ridden on a tram
Nor dipped my tail in butterscotch
Nor spread my bum with jam.

They said I punched a pigeon
But those charges never stuck
For any ornithologist
Could see it was a duck.

I never stole a croissant
From a one-eyed dancing fox,
Or tickled rusty penguins
Having pushed them into socks.

I may have trained some cross-eyed fleas
To dribble on the Queen,
But I left them stuck in treacle
On a purple submarine.

I was famous for my patience
And my kindness through out life,
But it didn’t help me learn to drive
Or find myself a wife.

I chased so many butterflies
And climbed so many trees.
I scratched myself so many times
And cursed so many fleas.

My bones are getting creaky now,
My ears don’t work at all.
I stagger round at snails’ pace
And hope that I don’t fall.

I think, perhaps, I’m past my best,
I guess in time we’ll see,
But now I’m off to see the Queen
And pick up my O.B.E.