Somewhere on the Cornish shores,
Buried underneath the sand,
Dwell the Harlequin Cats.
They are a strangeness,
For they are not the largest predator,
To have inhabited the British isles,
Yet they are perhaps the most powerful,
For deep within them,
They possess an ability,
To move through objects.
They can drift through the walls of a home,
And often do,
Knocking over household items,
And vanishing before the owners can spot them.
They can slide through rocks amongst bushes,
And often do,
To pounce and catch their dinner,
And gobble it up before it has a chance to escape.
Their favourite food,
Aside from pinching pasty crusts,
Is silver tipped mice.
Legend speaks of a famous Harlequin Cat,
That kittens are told about,
As a warning of paying attention,
And his name, was Gocki Kath.
Was hunting a mouse,
And it had proved to be a difficult furry thing,
For he had chased it through the fields,
Chased it across the shore,
At an old farmhouse.
Gocki Kath was so hungry,
That he wasn’t in his right mind,
He didn’t think,
He couldn’t think,
Of anything else but the mouse,
And so he charged at it,
Forgetting to use his talent,
And bashed his head,
Upon the stone wall of the ruins.
He tilted his head and shook it off.
Again he tried to catch the mouse,
And as it scuttled away,
His paw came crashing down,
And caught it.
Gobbled it up.
But all was not as it seemed.
His talent was askew,
And as the mouse slid down his throat,
It slipped straight though his belly,
And found itself on the floor again.
Once more, Gocki Kath pounced,
Gobbled up the mouse,
It slid back out again.
Again and again,
He repeated this,
He gave up,
And let the mouse go.
All Harlequin kittens are told,
To watch every step,
And be aware,
Of what you are heading into.