Old Friend

I was a good cat when I was young.

Used to bring my master the mice I caught out in the field.

My best friend was a dog…

Stupid creature — but loyal.

He’d dig a hole in the fence,

so I could crawl in and steal me a chicken.

Master thought it was foxes, (foxes)

so he’d sit all night by the henhouse with his shotgun.

We’d wait with him,

eatin’ the food he shared with us.

Then he’d pass out — dead drunk.

And that’s when we’d strike.

Take a chicken or two.

(Take a chicken or two.)

Those were good times.

Master had a son…

Vicious little thing.

He liked to torture small animals.

He tried throwin’ rocks at me,

but I was too fast.

One day, though…

he cornered me in the henhouse.

I was mid-theft.

He grabbed me by the neck —

and with a butcher’s knife,

he cut off my tail.

Dog tried to save me.

Bit the boy real hard, made him let go.

Master woke up…

but instead of helpin’,

he took my poor ol’ friend behind the barn —

“Fucking dog!”

and shot him in the head.

(…and shot him in the head.)

Two years later, that boy…

he killed his mama and his sister —

drunk and ragin’.

So Master…

he shot the boy in the head,

fed him to the pigs.

(Fed him to the pigs.)

Police still lookin’ for that boy, I reckon.

(That boy, I reckon.)

These days,

it’s just me and my master.

I don’t steal chickens no more.

Ain’t got the taste for fresh blood.

Master’s mostly drunk,

but he takes real good care of me.

Times are good again.

…I miss my friend.

Times are good again.