Ratus Ratus he was brown
\nAnd when he left old London Town
\nTwas out in the sticks he made his way
\nTo where forests danced
\nAnd where foxes play<\/p>\n
Among the haystacks he would run
\nAnd bathe awhile in the Autumn sun
\nFrighten the ladies in barn and shack
\nAnd for that,he got his share of flack<\/p>\n
A handsome fellow with teeth to match
\nLiked to frequent the orchard patch
\nWhere he’d climb the trees and munch away
\nThe beauty of Bath on a crimson day<\/p>\n
His prehensile tail was extra long
\nAs long as his body you can’t go wrong
\nWith a tail as straight as the plumb bob die
\nNo wonder he made the young girls cry<\/p>\n
He would gnaw right through Tom Merriman’s
\nShed
\nAs drunk as a coot appearing dead
\nTo the world at large but not old tom
\nA country lad was where he was from<\/p>\n
He would take his pitch fork and bring it down
\nOn any rat from London Town
\nSquash them flat impale them hard
\nThey really had to be on their guard.<\/p>\n
A story made up on the spur of the moment
\nListening to rats run under the floorboards
\nIn an old barn.<\/p>\n
Written at 2.30 in the morning with the wind
\nHowling outside.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Ratus Ratus he was brown And when he left old London Town Twas out in the sticks he made his way To where forests danced And where foxes play Among the haystacks he would run And bathe awhile in the … Continue reading