Too Big for His Boots
“I want a broomstick,” said the cat.
“And, just like yours, a wide brim hat.
I’ll take a pair of pointy boots,
A nighty owl that glares and hoots,
One pumpkin cut to grin that glows,
Two warts like those that itch your nose,
Three blackened crows with crooked beaks,
A chair that rocks with cricks and creaks,…”
That cat! He carried on, and on,
‘Til Witch stood up and freed a yawn.
She waved her wand then thrice she spat.
“It’s not your birthday, silly cat!”
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