I never much believed in reincarnation
Thought it was only people’s imagination
But now I’m forced into some reconsideration
Something’s happened to my cat that deserves some explanantion
William Shakespeare’s in my cat, my kitty is the bard
He used to be a playwright now he’s digging up the yard
He’s still a cat in most respects he likes to meow and purr
But now I introduce him as the cat who wrote Richard the Third
I took him to see Phantom, he said it was quite nice
But he can’t go see Miss Saigon until he kills some mice.
William Shakespeare’s in my cat it sometimes seems so deep,
The guy who wrote Twelfth Night chews on my socks while I’m asleep
I’m really quite impressed I own the cat who wrote MacBeth
But if something’s rotten in this state it’s just his fishy breath
‘Cause he wrote Romeo and Juliet
But his greatest story yet
Is coming back as someone’s pet
And gettin’ neutered by the vet
Got his paws caught in a net
Then he said to be or not to meeeeeow!
William Shakespeare’s in my cat he rarely ever talks
He makes his loudest statement standing in the litterbox
He sleeps on all my shelves and throws my books about the house
It doesn’t sound like prose when he bats his squeaky mouse
Same Beckett’s plays were witty, same thing for Bernard Shaw
Oscar Wilde is pretty, but none of them have paws
William Shakespeare’s in my cat he chases bits of fluff
John Milton’s in my goldfissh but I never liked his stuff
I’m thinking that Franz Kafka really came back as a bug
And I hope Andrew Lloyd Webber will stay underneath my rug
‘Cause he wrote Romeo and Juliet
But his greatest story yet
Is coming back as someone’s pet
And gettin’ neutered by the vet
Got his paws caught in a net
Then he said to be or not to meeeeeow!