
Cat hat, dustcat hat, cat on a hat that’s where she sat
And the dustcat of course was round and fat
In the hat, with ears like a bat having eaten the dust
That she licked from the mat,
With a tongue like a tube, like a trick like a twist
It’s a dustcat hat it’s a joke it’s a trap
And its heavier now than a regular cap
But a regular cap won’t
Give your face a lap with a long tube tongue
That can suck and rasp
And you gasp and you writhe as it licks your face
The hat’s cleaning you, such a big disgrace
For what is dust but bits of skin
That are dead, that are dry, that are flakey thin
What a dustcat wants is a dusty snack
And your skin is fresh but it won’t hold back
Not this hat, not this dustcat hat on your head
In your face, clawing down your spine
Eating skin, dead skin maybe yours maybe mine
It may not be cute, it might be an attack
But you won’t like a cat who is feeling a lack
Any lack at all it’ll be in your face,
With its teeth and its paws and its feline grace
What were you thinking, did you dust this place?
Now that cat in your hat has to eat your skin
Though it looks quite fat this cat feels so thin
And you won’t put it off with the scent of gin
And you won’t get away though you try and you pray
It’s a cat hat, dustcat on your head
And it may eat your face if it thinks you’re dead.
(With thanks to Marieanne for the prompt!)