by Karen D. Mitchell

The cats we find are sometimes the sweetest cats on the planet in this parody of "May Morning Dew" from my CD, Whiskers in the Jar: Irish Songs for Cat Lovers.

One sunny June morning as I played in the grass,
I heard a loud meowing beneath my neighbor’s house.
When I peered into the darkness, my heart it pounced anew.
I found the friend I'd wished for in the orange kitten's mew.

I set him in a basket and showed him to my mom,
his wee head under his tail and small body so calm.
I said if I can keep him, there's nothing I won't do,
for my soul was enchanted by the orange kitten's mew.

Dad said we could only keep him 'till he found a new home.
Then the months scurried by; soon the kitten was full grown.
Each evening he and dad cuddled in the living room.
Dad had fallen under the spell of the orange kitten's mew.

Almost five years later, Tiger still brings us much joy,
crying for belly rubs and batting ‘round his toy.
The family is blessed to know a cat so loving and true.
Our lives were changed forever by the orange kitten’s mew.

by Lynn McKinney

This parody of the Scottish song "Henry Martin" tells the story of a cat who goes mousing on the high seas. It gets a little bloody when the cat finds a rat on this latest song on my CD, Whiskers in the Jar: Irish Songs for Cat Lovers.

There were three cat brothers in merry Scotland;
In merry Scotland there were three.
And they did cast lots which of them should go, Should go, should go
And turn mouser all on the salt sea.

The lot it fell first upon Kitty Martin,
The fiercest of all of the three.
That he should turn mouser all on the salt sea, Salt sea, salt sea
To maintain a fine vessel rat-free.

He had not been sailing but a long winter's night
And part of a short winter's day,
Before he espied a large fat grey rat, Fat grey rat, fat grey rat
Come creeping down at him straight way.

"Meow! Meow!" Cried Kitty Martin;
"What makes you slink so nigh?"
"I'm a poor rodent bound for that sack of grain, Sack of grain, sack of grain.
Will you please for to let me pass by?"

"Meow! Meow!" Cried Kitty Martin;
"That thing it never could be!
For I am turned mouser all on the salt sea, Salt sea, salt sea
To maintain a fine vessel rat-free.

"Come, lower your pink tail and write up your will,
And bring yourself over to me;
For I will chase you and your cousins all, Cousins all, cousins all,
Your dead bodies I'll eat with my tea."

"Oh no! I won't lower my slender pink tail,
Nor bring myself over to thee!
And you shan't take from me my dear rodent life, Rodent life, rodent life
Nor force me to jump in the sea."

With tooth, claw, and squealing, hard at it they went,
For fully two hours or three,
Till Kitty Martin gave to him the death bite, The death bite, the death bite,
And straight down the gullet went he.

Bad news, bad news to rat cousins came;
Bad news to rats soon came 'round.
"There's been a poor rodent and he's passed away,
Passed away, passed away!
And now the cat runs us aground."

by Matt McGinn

This song by Scottish songwriter, Matt McGinn, is a a classic story of an old woman and her cat. It's known in Scotland as "The Dundee Cat" and it's on my CD Whiskers in the Jar: Irish Songs for Cat Loversc.

In an attic flat in Dundee town,
A poor old woman spread the tale around
That she lived all her life in her old top flat
With no company but her old tom cat

Fifty years in a wee top flat
The poor old woman and her old tom cat

Now one night they sat by the fire quite glum
When who do you think came down the lum (chimney)
I'm your fairy Godmother, so have no fear
To grant three wishes they sent me here

The old woman looked down at her empty purse
I could always use some cash of course
The fairy godmother waved her wand around
And lying on the floor was ten thousand pounds

Now a lovely figure and a face divine
For just one night I wish were mine
Says the fairy godmother, "I'll have a go!"
And she made her look like Marilyn Monroe.

This lovely girl by the fire she sat
She turned her attention to the old tom cat
He's my only love so here's my plan
Tonight please make him a handsome man

This handsome man at last drew near,
And he whispered softly in her ear.
The night is young but you'll regret
The day you took me to the vet...!!!

by Jean Prior, Nancy Pearsall, Marc Gunn

What happens when a bunch of cats hear that the dairy farm is on fire? It turn into a kitty free-for-all with cats flying from rafters and partying till the cows come home in this parody of "Old Dun Cow" from my CD, Whiskers in the Jar: Irish Songs for Cat Lovers.

Some friends and I in a milkman's truck
Were eating catnip one night
When into the truck a tomcat jumped
His scraggly face gone white.
"What's up", says Tom, "Have you seen a dog,
Or has our milkman retired?"
"Milkman retired? Fft hiss!", says he,
"The dairy farms' on fire!"

And there were toms stretched up and down
Lappin' up the milk on the floor.
"My Cream, Cream!" the farmer cried
As he came knockin' on the door (clap clap)
Oh don't let him in till it's all lapped up
Then somebody shouted Mreow! MREOW!
And we all drank milk till the cows came home
When the dairy farm caught fire.

"Mew," says Tom, "What a bit of luck!
Everybody follow me
And it's out to the barn
If the fire's there
Then we'll have milk for free."
We chased Tom down nipping his heels
Then into the milk pond flipped
And we hadn't been there ten minutes or more
Till we were all quite 'nipped.

Percy sauntered over to a water pail
And pawed at it as he gagged (cough cough)
Started takin' off his flea collar
Likewise his rabies tags.
"Hold on, " says Tom, "that ain't allowed
Ya can't do that thing here.
Why go washing your tags in the wat'ring trough
When milk's coming out our ears?"

Then there came from the old barn door
A collie from across the street
And when he saw three hundred cats
He took a ringside seat
He nipped at tails in good clean fun
Splashed milk on a cat or three
And just to show there was no harm done,
He licked their whiskers clean.

And then there came a mighty splash
Fur flew to and fro
Leaping from the rafters' flames
Into the pails below.
"Well, we're safe here," a Persian mewed
Paddling in the foam,
"This here's a bath I'd get used to
They won't believe back home!"

When the sun came up, the fire was out
We rolled across the floor
The barn was burned. The milk was drunk.
There wasn't any more.
Tom stretched his legs, said, "Good job, lads!"
Raised his tail up higher,
"There's dairies all along this road.
Let's set them all on fire!"

by Lynn McKinney

Ever notice how cats stare off into nothingness? You can't help but wonder what they're thinking. Watch out if you try to help them decide. This parody of my song "Johnny at the Door" is on my CD Whiskers in the Jar: Irish Songs for Cat Lovers.

Kitty awoke on a crisp winter morn;
And looked through the door at the hill.
And he mewed to mistress to show his distress
As he made his way to the sill.
But the wind was sharp and cold that day;
And the rustling grass caused him fears,
So kitty sat with the door open
Not moving except for his ears, singing...

"I'll go outside a while;
But then, I might just stay in.
Yes, I'll sit and think a bit
And I'll neither go out nor stay in."

It was a cold morning, went straight to his bones
Oh, he wished that he had him a mouse.
Just one loud squeak, and he'd eat for a week;
But he'd have to go out of the house.
Oh his mouth watered with the thought of mice
But it was too cold to decide,
And not even threats could make him step through
The door, and saunter outside. He sang...

Kitty sat there half the day
And into the house wind did moan;
And he thought about each dire consequence
Of the things he might do all alone.
Oh, he might wet his paws, or break hunting laws,
Or catch a fat mouse for his prey.
He might meet his end, or he might meet a friend.
But still he just sat and he'd say...

His mistress came to the end of her rope
And she gave a terrible shout.
With the knob in her hand and an evil grin
'Twas her toe, that shoved kitty out!
Kitty fluffed out his fur as he sat on the stoop
And he gave her a baleful green glare,
It was cold on his toes, and his little wet nose.
"You can't make me go out of my lair!" He said...

When the door slid open, a cold wind blew in
And there sat the cat in a crouch.
With a bird in his jaws and fresh mud on his paws,
The bad kitty jumped up on the couch!
"Here's a gift for you!" and away the bird flew
As he tracked the mud on the chair.
"You should know better, when I'm deep in thought!
You can't make me get off of my rear!" He sang...

by Nancy e. Pearsall, Feb 9, 2008

I came up with the idea for this song over two years ago, but every time I sat down to write it, the words never came out. Then as the deadline for recording the new Irish Songs for Cat Lovers CD, I asked my friend Nancy to come write and edit a couple songs with me. The very next day, she had a bit of inspiration and wrote this song better than I ever could. This parody of "Whiskey in the Jar" is available on the same-titled CD, Whiskers in the Jar: Irish Songs for Cat Lovers.

As I was throwin' pennies like wishes in a fountain
I heard two women talking 'bout their babies and recountin'
How one had lost a tooth already, giggling and merry
They joked about inflation for the stork and the Tooth Fairy

Mush a ring dum a doo dum a da
Whack for my daddy'o
Whack for my mommy'o, there's
Whiskers in the jar

I chuckled when I saw a pillow lifted, and a penny
Being hurled across the bedroom, and replaced it with a twenty
I sighed with relief that my cats would never bleed me ---
But admitted there were times I rather wished I had a baby

Well later on that night, I drove home to my apartment
Was greeted by my kitties, and refilled their food and water
And there beside the feeding bowl was a whisker on the carpet
"Kind of like a baby tooth" I thought, and so I saved it

'Twas early the next morning, I placed upon the mantel
Another that I spotted watching "Sleepless in Seattle"
Before too long, the few had grown into a small collection
And I'll admit it's odd, but I regard them with affection

Some parents push their daughters in the carriages out strolling
And others take their sons to soccer, baseball or out bowling
But I shop for catnip, making sure that it's organic
And brag on my cats' cleverness with pride that is gigantic

When friends of mine come over and they see my jar of whiskers
I assured them it's not voodoo, and eventually they snicker
And when my cats are gone, and I'm beside myself all lonesome
That jar will come in handy for the day I want to clone them