To A Ratty
by Bunny Burns
Wee, sleek, cowering, timorous beastie,
Oh, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need not start away so hasty
With hand held tight against your ass
I would be loath to run and chase thee
With paddle to cure thy sass.
Best to cooperate and spare the pain
Of ten good ones from my cane.
I'm truly sorry my dominion
Has interrupted our sexy union,
And justified that ill opinion
Which makes you startle
At me, thy lordly earth-born companion,
And fellow-Mulder loving mortal!
If you and he had been less bold,
another tale would be here told.
I doubt not while, but thou may thieve:
skulk and scurry, oh the lies you weave.
What then? Poor Ratty, thou might live
just as well on consultant's fee.
So tell me not that it was for money,
I know you better now, Ratty honey.
So a small request; over my knee,
your pants pulled down please!
I remember when I found you!
Wounded, helpless, hopeless too.
Really I should have stood and gloated,
been glad to see you so demoted.
But your eyes so softly green,
as you lay shivering in gloomy scene.
And bleak December's winds blew
both chill and cutting to the keen!
You saw the aliens laid to waste,
And weary death coming with haste.
And laid you down to die at last,
Your conscience ill with horrors past,
From furies and the fates chased.
Your heart over-burdened and in pain,
No more defiance able to feign,
To me you looked for the final cast.
That sordid room in which you lay
And looked at me, resigned to pay.
You glanced away without a word.
My gun trembled; it was absurd,
that after all, I could not fire,
on the object of my old desire.
I felt a fool to bring you here
and Mulder's jealousy was my fear.
How surprised was I to see his grin
and hear his confession of his old sin.
But, Ratty, I called your scheme,
Your neediness, your loving dream,
Proved sense and foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
go often astray, and hearts will open
despite the wounds and ravages of pain.
When I took you to be my beloved boy,
you wept and thanked me for promis'd joy.
Still thou art blessed, compared with me!
My paddle only touches thee.
But, och! Between you and Mulder
my belt and cane never grow colder.
Still, it's worth the pain and troubles,
Cause between you two my joy doubles
I love you too much to let you stray
back into that old and wicked way.
And, Foxy-dear, please stop your smirk.
It was you I saw in shadows lurk.
Those files Alex said were to sell
could many a men send to hell
that Mulder dear, I heard you say,
should for their crimes dearly pay.
So softly sit and contemplate well,
Your buns before I make them swell...
The end
Please see the other works of the poet, of course, such as the classic
"My Lover's Buns Are Colored A Red, Red Rose "