Before the Camping Trip

Few believe and none now know
If the old town tale was true.
'Bout three hundred years ago,
They first told what I tell you.

The first who came to those hills
Brought ax and saw as their tools.
Their job was to feed the mills
With logs drug to streams by mules.

So they say, that one morning,
They heard unhappy braying.
A mule a tree adorning,
Atop in the wind swaying.

"Who taught you to climb a tree,
You dang-cussed, long-eared fool?
Now it's down for which you plea -
We should leave you, as a rule."

All day 'twas to fetch him down -
It took the whole cursing crew.
Their anger in sleep to drown -
But next morning, there were two.

One was twenty feet up there,
The other 'bout twenty-five.
'Twas like they'd flown through the air
By ways none could quite contrive.

"This didn't happen on that hill
Nor none we cut before now.
Of this place, I've had my fill
And I'll not come back, I vow."

And so they left it uncleared
To harvest all around it.
They say Mule Hill's ghostly weird,
Protected by a spirit.

So you have your camping fun,
And hike that hill, if you please.
But beware when sets the sun
Of mules falling from the trees.

Grandfather's Tales

I am old, as you know,
Older than so many things.
In your young eyes I grow
More ancient than bygone kings.

Less than all, I have seen,
But, oh, so much more than you.
When I tell where I've been,
You can count it's mostly true.

Maybe just 'tween the ears,
They perform their lively dance.
Replay in to-come years
The tales for you I enhance.

You should not think so hard
That your ears let naught come in.
With me, you need not guard,
If you wish to laugh or grin.

My Neighbor's Cat

My neighbor had a cat
Who could never sing on key.
But he'd not stop for that,
Causing all great misery.

I think he truly thought
That his song was quite a treat.
High treetops he so sought
To broadcast to the whole street.

The dogs joined in chorus
To howl out their displeasure.
'Twould make my skull porous
As he sang at his leisure.

You may want me to tell
Of this tale's happy ending.
Oft not all comes out well
Like for this cat's ear-rending.

It took another cat
To make him see his error.
This cat was twice as fat
And six times the terror.

Cutie, they had named her,
And she greatly loved to nap.
After she preened her fur,
She'd settle onto a lap.

Asleep she was so cute,
You could understand her name.
But do not wake the brute
Unless mayhem is your aim.

The woeful singer chose,
Not wisely, but all are fools,
To court her as she doze,
With the wisdom seen in mules.

His voice crashed from the heights
To grate on her sleeping ear.
Her yowl gave all the frights --
The likes you might never hear.

Up that tree in one bound
Flew female, feline fury.
One swat, he hit the ground,
And lit out for Missouri.

Riding the Rocket's Tale

When the skies fill with bursting lights
And all cheer the fireworks display,
I think back through so many nights
To when I flew over Cathay.

I was apprentice to a monk,
A master of Tao alchemy.
It was my job to mind his junk
As he sought immortality.

Each day he mixed some this and that
To capture life's elusive spark.
He found more ways to kill a cat
Than the trees can grow kinds of bark.

Each night ere I could go to sleep,
I had to clean the testing shed.
All matters of things I had to sweep
Into the bin besides my bed.

But one time, too full was the bin
And I felt down on my whole lot.
I gathered up that day's sweeping
And hid it all beneath my cot.

I fell in bed, so sorely tired,
And blew my candle a small puff.
I did not see the spark that fired
The reaction amongst that stuff.

And with a bang, my bed took flight
Through the roof and past the treetop -
Gave those monks a helluva fright --
Up it went with no plan to stop.

Beneath me grew a sparkling tail
As explosions pushed me higher.
Through clouds and sky, I learned to sail,
There, upon my bed on fire.

Oh, while it lasted, it was great,
'Though I do not recommend it.
You'd enjoy the view - it's top-rate -
But not the ground when you hit it.