Just a Fado cat
It isn’t just a pain,
It drives me insane,
And it doesn’t just fall on the plain.
I’m no pet, but I hate the wet,
Of the Carvalheira rain.
The Fado girl sings,
Of that Chuva thing,
And though it sounds very pretty.
I’d rather be indoors than have wet paws,
Or fur, and that’s a pity.
He hasn’t said yes,
Nor has he said no,
But the door is left inviting.
A Fado Cat must always take care,
But I feel I could go right in.
In a place I know
It seems time forgot
Where folks smile, and laugh
Despite their lot
On a hillside high
Eucalyptus grow
A majestic sweep
To the valley below
A small cafe
A lovely man
Working every hour
Doing what he can
A young lady sits
Where shade still plays
Stitching beauty
On most days
The crack of Diario
Held in tight fist
One more fly
That is rarely missed
A tractor roars
A badly-parked car
A flock of goats
Rutting on the tar
Giant cabbages
In strong brown arms
A girl that smiles
Her innocence charms
Some English sit
Exchange the day
Watch life unfold
Both work and play
A fountain proud,
In a time of need
As taps run dry
No clouds to feed
In a place I know
High on a hill
In a different life
I’d be there still
Strange goings on,
Beyond the mat.
Dangerous times for
A Fado cat.
Fado Cats Must Stick Together
That thing there,
What is that?
It looks like a skewer for
A Fado cat.
And that long bent stick,
With lots of string.
I’d like to play with that,
To hear it ping.
A Fado cat
Loves straw as well.
But six bales of it?
What The Hell?
Better not hide,
Inside the straw.
Skewer flying,
Look! There’s more.
No. Sit listening,
On the mat.
Be good, Be safe,
Just A Fado cat.
joesportugal 