Missus Grumpy And Her Cat

When i was eight ,
There lived across our gate...
A grumpy old woman , who had seven cats...
Her pretty little felines , as black as bats.
Age had caught up with our lady and so did loneliness...
Her house and her eyes , had a strange eeriness..
On warm , lazy noon's , on her rocking chair
She used to contemplate , with her flowing white hair ,
Of life passed by , of death approaching...
Whilst her cats crawled up to her , lolling and scratching..
The marks on Mrs. grumpy , spoke of a tortured tale...
Her husbands wrath...over times scale...
Her grumpiness after all wasn't without a reason...
For her man had turned out to be - a high treason...
Drinks and cards were the usual frame ,
The belt then transpired on our dame...
And now after all those tears , and all those screams..
Mrs. Grumpy left alone in the streams...
Life had her way and when death made her his own...
Her soul bereft of her tortured bone.
The cats , they never left her side...
And Mrs.grumpy still visits them on rainy nights..
With a bowl of milk and her tortured eyes...
Poor Mrs. grumpy still grumpy even in afterlife...