Freda

I used to lead a tranquil life, unobtrusive and retired
I used to do as I pleased, my little sky was blue and clear
I used to eat my peas with my knife, I went to bed when I felt tired
I flatulated at my ease, I changed my shirts twice a year

Then one day a pussycat wandered into my flat
And my existence hasn't been the same
A waif and a stray, I couldn't turn her away
So I kept her and I gave her a name

I called her Freda, my Freda, sweet Freda
Agreed that her breed would have caused a stampede at the cat show at Kensington
She'd got no need for good breeding
she'd quite enough pedigree for me

Her gaze was melancholic and diffuse, her coat was lacklustre and bare
Her whiskers sparse, her teeth were loose, her tail was never in the air
I pandered to her every whim, I sang to her on my guitar
I fed her cream and fish and gin, I took her to the cinema

What sweet relief the day she ceased to be glum
When she hoisted her tail on high
And underneath she showed her cheeky little bum
Like a little pink moon in the sky

Oh Freda, sweet Freda, dear Freda
My pretty, my kitty, my own little slap-happy Eros and Agape
Freda, dear Freda, my Freda
My darling, my cara, my paragon

Those were the days of my joy, I thought such bliss could never change
But it was not without alloy, my little puss became quite strange
She started to fret and to brood, she used to smirk at my distress
She used to spit in her food, she used to yawn at my caress

And then one day she went away
And I know neither wither nor why
But I've deduced that she was seduced
By some bleeder who gave Freda the eye

I think some rotter has got her, oh what a
Sly-mover manoeuvre, some free-wheeling git has got my little tit-bit
I need her, my Freda, have you seen her?
She's dingy and thin with a ginger fringe

It could be the man who brings the milk who's stolen off my honey child
His hands are smooth, his shirts are silk, he's got a most unpleasant smile
The gas man may have asked her to desert, she may be in the postman's sack
Perhaps the dustbin man's a flirt, perhaps a pussy maniac

And I am wise to the man who brings the meat
My butcher, he's brutal and sly
I'll analyse everything that I eat
My sweetheart may be part of a pie

Some monster, Susie Wongster, has ponced her
I'm sunk for some skunk's done a bunk, done a bee-line with my pretty feline
A bleeder, some bleeder's got Freda
And Freda the bleeder's got someone new. Is it you?