A big fat cat, and a rat with a hat,
Rested on a straw mat of a cart,
pulled by two sturdy bullocks fed
with buttery apple tart.
(the two pals were gazing at the night sky in Luleå,
spotting this and that for many long hours as
the Northern lights sumptuously bathed the night.).
Woken up by a gunshot
The thick friends ran hither-thither and separated apart,
As they scurried to the canopy of a blighted crop
To investigate the frenetic yelps and bangs.
(the cold Arctic nights are perfect for the fungi to
feast on, to leave behind the ravages of its work of survival.).
Mustachioed men with knives and guns fought
an army of hitherto unknown men of an equivalent part.
The big fat cat and the rat with a hat know not
why the horde of men fought day after day for many days apart.
Agonising it was to see those thick big fat men
With generals and commanders,
who obey their master’s words to the dot,
and their actions, oft most ruthless and wrought.
(it is said that fear dwells in those who hath eateth
Many a heap of mash and dranketh many a goblet of Elderflower wine)
With all shot dead
And breaths squelched,
The pride of a few young and old men
Is all that remained of the once glorious past.
(Alas, death shall leave no one, even those who
flaunt their pride.).
The big fat cat and the rat with a hat,
Left the canopy to return to the cart.
The straw mat burnt, and the bullocks roasted,
Lost they their quadrant for siesta and revel.
(Such loyal compatriots the bullocks were. Stoody they by the riotous crowd and fell prey to the anger and revenge that prevailed.).
Collateral damage often, such mutiny bringeth
As neither joy nor pain remains until the end,
but a strange feeling of loneliness that shalt surely prevail
and haunt one’s memories for long days to come.
And so, the days came and went,
And the long nights became satiated days at Luleå,
the war and the wails of our dear country men
and women, and many a flora and fauna, shalt but never cease.