(G)ratitude!

I want to express my gratitude to all those rat poets out there who have been contributing to the blog. I would also like to thank the poets from whom much of the rat poetry has been "cribbed."

"Niccolo The Mystery Rat" (with *many* apologies to TSE)

Niccolo's a mystery rat, he's called the skinny tail,
For he's the master criminal whose plans can never fail.
He's the bafflement of Homicide, the CDC's despair,
For when the reach the scene of crime, Niccolo's not there!

Niccolo, poor Niccolo, there's no rat quite like Niccolo,
He's mastered every human skill he even plays the piccolo,
His power to spread diseases would make Typhoid Mary stare
And when you reach the scene of crime, Niccolo is not there!

Your may seek him in the basement, or underneath the stair,
But I tell you once and once again, Niccolo is not there!

Niccolo is a gray-brown rat, he's rather small and frail,
You would know him if you saw him, for he has a rat-like tail.
His ears are round, yet pointed, his smell is rather musty;
His coat is covered with dirt and germs, his whiskers, they are dusty.
He sways his tail from side to side with movements like a snake,
And when you think he's half asleep he's always wide awake.

Niccolo Rat, Niccolo rat, there's no-one like Niccolo Rat,
for he's a fiend in rodent shape, a monster of a solo rat.
You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square --
But when a crime's discovered, then Nicollo is not there!

He's outwardly respectable (they say he carryies germs)
And his pawprints do not show that he has served three prison terms.
But when the larder's looted, or the cheesebox has been rifled,
Or when the chocolate's nibbled, or there's footprints in the trifle,
Or the cats are mewling wildly to get beneath the house,
Then you can be sure it's Niccolo, it isn't just a mouse.

And when the CDC has found an outbreak of the flu,
Or bubonic plague has broken out and they don't know what to do,
There may be some DNA that shows that someone's spread disease,
But Niccolo will prove it was not him, not wearing gloves like these!

And when the crime has been disclosed, the Secret Service say
It must have been that crafty rat, but he's a mile away,
You'll be sure to find him resting, or a biting at a cat,
Or doing hard mathematics, for that is where he's at.

Niccolo, rat Niccolo, there's no-one quite like Nicky,
There never was a rat child so assured or quite so quick,
He would always have an alibi, or a hole down which to hide,
But now his time has come and gone, and Niccolo has died.

And they say that all the cats whose wicked deeds are widely known
(I might mention Mungojerrie, Seffles, or Griddlebone)
There are none whose deeds have hurt the world in quite the wicked way
That cat Leah's did when she took poor Niccolo's life that day.

--Nicodemus (with a nod to T S Eliot)