No Animals Were Harmed
in the Making of...
Split atoms or hairs or ends. Bleeping Tom.
Belief turns over a new leaf. Sweeping Tom.
A murder of assumption jumped to conclusions,
with best misses, like a certain leaping Tom.
A taciturn pause then u-turns and tight-rope
walking tip-toes this stealthy creeping Tom.
Toss a coin, blind-folded. A tit for a tat.
Heads you win, tails you... keep sleeping Tom.
Little birdie lost, black cat, or bad luck.
Dream on, hang in, but no use keeping Tom.
And how many and why, nine lives or none?
Tom torn, in tatters, forever seeking Tom.
No use crying over this spilt milk... a sour-
puss, like any or all other weeping Tom(s).
Is the cat in the box alive or dead?
Yes and no... But no Peeping! Tom!