That Scarborough Cat

Let's go back to Scarborough and that cat,
The one that ended up going splat,
Not the greatest way to die,
But before that he had eight other lives.

Born in Austria in 1942,
To a family of loving Jews,
How unlucky could he get,
You can guess what happened next.

So on to lives two and three,
Living in Las Vegas; the City that never sleeps,
Always stumbling around drunk,
Fell in the water and immediately sunk,
Eventually floated back up to the top,
Pulled to safety by a granny with a mop,
Took him home to get him dry,
The method she took; people have to ask why,
To get him dry she put him in the microwave,
KABOOM; life 3 would never be saved.

Now on to life number four,
Dumped outside a Laboratory door,
Thought he'd end up going mad,
But it wasn't all that bad,
Marijuana was the best,
Out of all the science tests,
All of a sudden he had a finger up the arse,
The pain was dreadful and did not pass,
He was not expecting that,
He had a sudden heart attack.

Swiftly moving on to five,
Wondering how he was still alive,
Stumbled in to a bee hive,
So un-dumbfounded was he,
Got killed by a load of killer bees.

Then on to number six,
He would go very quick,
He thought it was all a fix,
Crushed by a container of stickle bricks.

Moved around cautiously with life seven,
Now he was living in Sunny Devon,
Had this life for many years,
Living on the 10th floor of some old dears,
One night he slept outside on the window sill,
Unfortunately he didn't stay still,
He would free fall off the ledge,
Again he would find himself dead.

Life eight he'd hope would be great,
Once again living in the United States,
One day he strolled through New York,
Popped open the champagne cork,
Fell asleep inbetween two tall buildings,
Unaware that trouble was brewing,
It was September 11th 2001,
You know how this life came undone.

Now on to life number nine,
This feline was feeling fine,
Now living in Scarborough, England,
King of the block; with many a friends,
Felt he was immortal but didn't know what to do,
Should he try a poem?; that'll never do.

He saw a female in the street,
He saw this as a lovely treat,
But we know what happened next.

Rushed out the gate,
Like he was running late,
Went round the corner looking his best,
This female feline he thought he'd impress,
He was immortal and felt very tough,
Not realising his lives had had enough,
Stepped out on purpose infront of a car,
As 'Not Poetic' said; he never got far.