the court jesters whisper

courtesy mob's crib

The k-cat roams
Every place every corner
Even the side bars nooks and holes
He is there
Blowing hot and his whiskers tingle
Feeling the goodies coming out
Whetting his appetites

The owners of houses
Grumbles and cries
Taking pans and water
Cursing the k-cat
Shitting all over

The black headed hit man
Under cover he tells all and sundry
Always in contact
The k-cat he knows so well

The court jesters whistle
Blowing sweet nothing in his ears
He closes his eyes falling asleep
And his gun pointed erected oily glow
It is time to shoot the gin
One glass it won’t make any difference
So he thinks as he aims perfectly

The k-cat meows
Now he has to do his tricks
Pulling out his whiskers
He lays it down for the hit man
Let him dreams so he will get his way

The court jesters; guns out ready to hit
On the streets to fool the people
‘Let me help you or else I break your legs
Let us take your body and soul
You won’t regret it……………….’

The guns of intimidation
The gin of flowering glow
The fear into submission
‘It’s just fake guns my dear
I bought it in the night market’