Oh Tibby, you were Trouble,
With a capital ‘T’,
Oh Tibby, you were Trouble,
That was plain to see!
You wondered in, as a stray,
And a little girl did beg
To her Dad if you could stay,
As you eyed up his trouser leg!
If not shooting up a chimney
You were skating round the floor,
Or chasing round the garden,
Or grabbing heels behind the door!
Your claws, you liked to sharpen,
Whilst on his stool Dad sat,
Except one day you went too high,
You were such a naughty cat!
You had a way to tell the time
And at the corner you did wait,
For the little girl who loved you so
Then you’d race her to the gate!
Then the little girl she grew up
And had to move away,
But rest assured, Dear Tibby,
You were thought of every day!
Even now she smiles,
Though fifty years have passed,
Remembering her Tibby,
Trouble to the last!
© David Gibson, 2019