Right. So. You might remember that Sally gave me SORDID and BUT to work into a poem. (Thank you, Sally. Hmm.)
We’ve had some
little loud visitors in our roofspace recently and so I wrote this for them. I’m sure their mothers love them, even if I don’t.
Scuttle to your sordid bed,
still your paws, rest your head.
Don’t twitch your whiskers, or ruckle your nose,
but sleep until dusk brings the day to a close.
(Rebecca Newman, 2015)