What the Cat Knows

Mum’s tall spotty jug isn’t tall anymore
it’s in hundreds of pieces all over the floor
I rocked it and knocked it as I ran through the door
Mum thinks it was me, but she isn’t sure.
(The cat knows I did it.)

The jug was the prettiest thing in the hall
Mum loved it because it was bright and tall
I’m neither of those – I’m quite dull and small
I really didn’t mean to make it fall.
(The cat knows I did it.)

Mum found me crouching, trying to sweep
she shouted then began to weep
“My jug!” she wailed, “It wasn’t cheap!”
that night I couldn’t get to sleep.
(The cat knows I did it.)

I told Mum about the hairs on the mat
which match the colour of our cat
she frowned and said “Well, fancy that!”
the cat stayed silent where he sat.
(The cat knows I did it.)

Mum asked me outright “Was it you?”
my fingers shook, my blood turned blue
I hate to lie, that much is true
I said the cat hair was a clue.
(The cat knows I did it.)

My cat used to sleep upon my bed
he nuzzled love all round my head
now he glares as if he wants me dead
“I should have told the truth,” I said.
(The cat knows I did it.)