Poem:Whisky Was His Name.
Whiskey Was His Name.
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He was a scarred tomcat
With torn banner-like ears
And sharp yellow teeth.
His tail was like old string
But he was patient with me.
He would let me dress him
In old knitted baby clothes.
Then lie him on his back
In my cream doll’s pram,
To push him round the streets
Covered with a blanket.
At night he slept in my bed
Snug between my childish thighs
And I loved him dearly.
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