Author's note: This poem is written about a Cat, who was a stray, And was pregnant, and came to my house for assistance. Unfortunately, the kittens died, but she (Ginger, the Cat) Was adopted and taken to a nice home, so I consider my job done! I made up this story about her, because I lover her so much! Enjoy!
There's a whisper down the line,
At 7:49,
When the concert's about to start,
Saying, "Ginger! Where is Ginger?
That rotten Rock singer!
We must find her or the concert can't start!"
All the Roadies and the fans,
And the manager's 'n' stagehands,
Would be searching high, and low,
Saying, "Ginger, Where is Ginger?
For unless this one's a singer*,
Then national acclaim is out of reach!
At 8:02, with the concert overdue, and the
Managers all frantic,
To a man,
That when she would come out,
And she'd saunder to the front,
She'd been busy with her 'lectric guitar!
Then she struck a chord,
With such awesome force,
That the people screamed and shouted,
The concert was all right,
"We feel higher than a kite,
At our success!"
The managers said.
You could say that by and large,
It is Ginger, who's in charge,
Of her band,
Which a success,
From the Bassist
And the Drums,
To the keyboardist
(Who often hums!)
She supervises them all,
More or less.
Along the stage she paces,
And examines all the faces,
Of her fans, To the left and right,
She establishes a mosh pit,
By a simple scream of "Fight!"
But she'd know at once if anyone were hurt!
to be continued.....perhaps!