The Tail of Ella... (and Fergus!)
Fergus was an artist
A blue 'n' yella fella
A blue In' yella fella
With a cat named Ellal
He painted day and night
By sun and candle light
And sometimes
(For a laff!)
Held take a photograph
of the things he'd painted
Like -
Steam trains and flowers
And lemon meringue pies
Which, more often than not,
Would light up his eyes!
But what about Ella?
I hear you cry...
Well, there's one thing for certain,
She didn't like pie.
Although she was old.
Her mind was alert
And sometimes she'd think
as she lay on his shirt...
This blue is so pretty.
And so is the yella.
I'm glad I belong to this artist fella!
She'd sit and watch him paint
Hour after hour
Regardless of hot sun.
Or cold wintry shower.
And as she watched him
Wield his trusty brush.
It dawned upon her with a sudden great rush...
If he can do this.
Then why can't I?
He caught her watching...
SHE looked at the sky
As much as to say...
What are YOU looking at?
Give me a break,
I'm only a cat!
And with that she curled up.
Right over his calves
And pretended to sleep
She did nothing by halves!
How could she possibly even snooze?
While Billie and Sarah were yowling the blues?
Oh my man I love him so
They can't take that away from me
Happiness is a thing called Joe
And something about a kitten in a tree!
Hour upon hour,
They'd sing and they'd moan...
Ye cats! Thought Ella...
Just leave it alone!
Like the man who left you,
Why not just go home!
Poor Fergus got tired
All artists do
With a cat 'cross your calves.
You would,too!
Ella rolled off as he started to stand,
Fell on the floor
Not at all what she'd planned.
But what can you do.
When your chap's off to bed?
She just washed her face.
And then scratched her head.
Fergus said to Ella
Are you coming to bed?
He just loved the way
That she'd sprawl near his head.
But Ella just sat there with critical eye
Fixed on the picture
Of the sweet lemon pie.
Please yourself, then, said Fergus;
I'm off to bed.
I know you'll wake me when it's time to be fed!
She sat quite impassive
While he left the room
The thoughts in her head
Were going ZOOMOOM!!
As soon as she heard him snoring away.
She took a clean brush
And painted away.
Great big broad strokes
Like she'd seen him take.
Athritis, alas, made her poor paws ache.
She thought to herself
That's enough for now,
I'll go take a swig from
The juice of a cow.
Her wee tummy full,
And her aching paws rested,
Back to the canvas
For time she'd invested.
I'll not give up easy.
Determined was she.
I won't waste my time on
That troublesome flea!
Let him go waste HIS time
On Fergus instead,
And so she rolled round
On Fergus's bed
That pesky old flea
Attacked Ferg instead!
Back to the canvas
Determined as ever
Was ever a cat
So incredibly clever!?
The paint was flung from far and near,
From corner to corner,
Front-wards and rear.
Over the carpet
And up the walls
Over the ceiling
And way down the hall!
Ella stood back to survey her first work...
There was paint on the canvas,
Now that was a quirk'.
Back in the bedroom,
Fergus awoke
And squashed that old flea
Which was going poke! Poke!
Some rude awakening
Grumbled poor he,
Then, smiling, he thought,
I'll brew up some tea.
Then I'll feel better
And then back to work.
Can't laze around here,
And feel like a jerk!
Out to the hall he stumbled
And then ELLA! He yelled,
You've been painting ... AGAIN!
His eye hit the canvas
Oh, what a surprise!
'Twas covered in big yellow lemony pies!
Each pie was on a plate of bright blue,
She thought he would say -
SHOO, Ella, SHOO!
But he picked her up gently,
And stroked her wee paw
It has a certain je ne sais quoi.
What I'm trying to say,
It has style and panache
THIS certainly won't go out in the trash!
Later that day,
Their paintings were hung
At an artist's competition
And their praises were sung!
The judges assembled
Round each painting in turn,
The artists craned forward
To hear what they'd learn.
The first judge said, Really!
That's a bit off!
But then I never did like
Vinny Van Gough!
Just look at that!
The second judge cried
Matisse and Magritte
Hung up -
Side by side!
They declaimed and decried
Their hands they all wrung
Why, some of these paintings should never be hung'.
The gloomy old paintings
Of Michaelangelo.
Made the judges wish he'd introduced
A touch of tangelo!
At length and at last.
Forlorn and despairing
('Though just one washed his hands
of the work of Keith Haring!)
They gathered round the paintings
By Fergus and Ella
Ella, said one
Mmmm -
Blue and yella
She belongs to that artist fella
Fergus of Newtown
He's deaf and he's gay,
And even M.E. doesn't get in his way.
He's worked long and hard.
Consistent, persistent,
And even his Ella is quite insistent.
That when he's long gone,
His work will live on
And inspire young artists
Who follow thereafter,
His talent we'll laud
Even from the high rafters!
There is no surprise,
We'll award the first prize
To Fergus the fella
Who loves blue 'n' yella,
Jointly with second to his lovely Ella!
Back home tired and happy
And truly elated,
By neighbours and friends
They were royally feted!
Iit was late.
He was tired;
I'm going to bed!
You coming, Ella?
Not likely, She said.
I think I'd rather be painting,
Instead.
Now Fergus was an artist.
A blue 'n' yella fella,
With a real artistic cat,
Whose name was...
ELLA!