Gardening, I discovered where my cats go poo-poo:
Tracks in a line led to feline fecal find.

I had to ford a stream of whizz to reach that poo-poo:
About a square yard of cat crap buried there.

They left their pent-up anal rations in a quarter-foot bore;
I'm lucky they didn't leave sh*tballs on the floor.

Dinner through feliners; now I'm like a miner,
Digging for nuggets that won't be keepers—finders.

Soon I'll wet my whistle. . .throw down eight at the bar,
Now I'm on my tenth, you see, I favor sidecars.

Shoveled those logrolls in to a bin that's holdin'
Poo-poo from cats that are crap all-stars.

There's gonna be a "curtains" party—strangulation.
Satin and lace on their necks won't leave a trace.

They're gonna lie in the deep hole that I have just dug in the loam.
Those cats who did the poo-poo: the lord is callin' them home.