Tabasco Joe

Author:

Sarah Parry

He went by the name of Tabasco Joe,

Loyal sofa-mounted malkin of Pete,

Yet reigned loyalty reeks so bitter-sweet.

His scarlet coat like raspberries in the snow.

His little lungs tussock'd with tobacco,

For Pete loved to suck on the devil's teat,

Chain-smoking like the cigar-club elite,

Tabasco Joe's chest tarred like a fresh road.

A passive-smoking pussycat was condemned,

Chugging along like an old steam engine,

Simply for serving as a loyal friend!

Pete's regular roll-ups were killing him,

The blackened lungs that the vet cannot mend.

Tabasco Joe: the loyal grimalkin.

From Weyfarers No 100 (June 2006)

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