GUESTBOOK (2012) 50: “A Pub Owned by Lady Pitarte” (By Lance McVay)

Lance McVay


Two men in black hats

Went down to kill rats

In a pub owned by Lady Pitarte.

A few were soon dead

And together they said

They were off to a pretty good start.


But Pitarte had a cellar

And one went to tell her

She’d be sorry if they didn’t procure

Permission to descend

And thus better to end

Her troubles with rats, they were sure.


And so they were granted

Permission and planted

Their poison and traps down below

And they waited a day

Before they could say

They were finished, and thusly, could go.


The next day they returned

And were startled to learn

Not a vermin or varmint was found.

The traps were all tripped.

The poison not sipped,

But small prints were all over the ground.


Well the men in black hats

Improved on their traps

And created a better device

That would catch and not kill

Without poison or pill

All the rats, and quite likely, the mice.


They put it in place

And waited with grace

For the bell that would signal the deed

Had accomplished its task

So finally at last

They could get paid as Pitarte had agreed.


And so the bell rang

And with vigor they sprang

To gaze at their needed success

But all that they found

Lying there on the ground

Was an image that was fairly grotesque.


For there in a bag

With small ropes and a gag

In their contraption (that was fully intact)

Were the tattered remains

Of Ms. “Kitty Maclane”

Lady Pitarte’s long over due cat.


With unwavering zeal

They made an appeal

To Ms. Pitarte to allow them the chance

To flood the old cellar

And proceded to tell her

They’d like to be paid in advance.


She said, “You may NOT

And what’s more you have got

To comply with the contract agreed.

You shant see a dime

Until such a time

As the two of you fully succeed”.


So the law had been laid

And never dismayed

They threw themselves into the task.

One loaded a gun

While the other had run

To get a deadlier poison and mask.


Armed to the teeth

They ventured beneath

The pub to the cellar below.

They both said a prayer

And felt a bit scared

Not knowing quite how it would go.


They descended the steps

To the darkness and crept

To the brick and the mortar below

Where casks of fine brew

And a lantern or two

Were cast in a flickering glow.


They stood back-to-back

When a thunderous crack

Echoed in the darkness and gloom

They adjusted their eyes

And suddenly spied

A thousand some rats in the room!


Above in the pub

The bar was the hub

Of an evening of joy and good cheer

For Lady Pitarte

Had mastered the art

Of serving guests wine and beer.


No one understood

(The beer was so good)

That some of the clamor and cries

That were so very loud

Were not from the crowd

But from men who now fought for their lives.


When things settled down

And the people from town

Had tottered off back to their beds

Pitarte began clearing

The glasses, not hearing

A sound from the men before bed.


And so then at dawn

Pitarte had been gone

To shop for an evening affair

And when she returned

She was startled to learn

The men in black hats were not there.


She descended the steps

To the cellar and swept

Up the clutter she found on the floor;

A dead rat or two,

A gun, and a shoe

And two hats that she found by the door.


So after a time

She thought things were fine,

The cellar was tidy and clean,

And she added two to a stack

In her closet of hats;

Red, yellow, magenta and green.

Two men in white hats

Were sent to kill rats

In a pub owned by Lady Pitarte

A few were soon dead

And together they said

They were off to a pretty good start…


(copyright 2010 Lance McVay)



About KPKeelan

Fool, Philosopher, Lover & Dreamer, Benign TROUBLEMAKER, King and Jester of KPKworld, an online portal to visual and linguistic mystery, befuddlement and delight.
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