My Feud

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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"My Feud" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Web. 16 Feb. 2020. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/32280/my-feud>.

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