| We had a cat
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| His name was Bill
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| He caught our budgie on the window sill
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| One holy day, one Sunday morn
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| Left only feathers on our back lawn
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| Oh no Bill, you can’t do that
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| You silly pussy, you stupid cat
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| So we took him down, our family pet
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| And we left his balls with the family vet
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| Well the very next day he packed his bags
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| Left all his penthouse and playboy mags
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| How could we do it to the family vet
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| Go and leave his balls with the family vet
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| Well we get no postcards, no telephone calls
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| He’s out in the bush somewhere, with no balls
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| And he’s obsessed with sweet revenge
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| So he eats our parrots and our fairy wrens
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| Yes he’s mortified and we all regret
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| That we Left his balls with the family vet
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| How he’s highly sought by the feral choir
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| For his new found talent to sing much higher
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| Has no more time for female friends
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| Only parrots and fairy wrens
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| No sense of humor, ex-family pet
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| He’s still angry, he’s still upset
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| It still hurts, he can’t forget
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| That we left his balls with the family vet |