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Robert W Service - My Feud
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I hate my neighbour Widow Green;
     I`d like to claw her face;
But if I did she`d make a scene
     And run me round the place:
For widows are in way of spleen
     A most pugnacious race.

And yet I must do something quick
     To keep the hag in line,
Since her red rooster chose to pick
     Five lettuce heads of mine:
And so I fed it arsenic
     Which it did not decline.

It disappeared, but on my mat
     Before a week had sped
I found Mi-mi, my tabby cat
     And it was stoney dead;
I diagnosed with weeping that
     On strychnine it had fed.

And so I bought a hamburg steak,
     Primed it with powdered glass,
And left it for her dog to take
     With gulping from the grass:
Since then, although I lie awake
     I have not seen it pass.

Well, that`s the scoring up to date:
     And as I read a text
From Job to justify my hate
     I wonder who`ll be next?
Somehow I feel that one must die,
     Ma Green or I.
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