Old McWilliams Had a Dog and Other Poems

By Ken Gosse

Old McWilliams Had a Dog

a Mixed-Melody Sing-Along

Sing the verses to “Old MacDonald” and the alternate refrains to “Bingo Was a Dog”

Old McWilliams bought a farm
and brought his wife along.
They had some children and a dog
and loved to sing this song:

B–I–N–G–O,
E–I–E–I–O,
Sing it fast or slow,
but always sing along.

He had a rooster and a cow,
some chickens and a pig.
He had no tractor or a plow
and used his hoe to dig.

Cluck like chickens do,
Oink and make a Moo,
Cock-a-doodle-doo—
McWilliams wore a wig!

He had a house and leaky roof
which had one lightning rod,
but when he added thirteen more,
his wife thought that was odd.

“Do not worry, Dear.
There’s no need to fear.
Lightning can’t strike here,”
and then he’d wink and nod.

But then a twister changed their odds
one dark and stormy day.
The lightning melted all the rods
and burned the house away.

“Good-bye, lovely house,”
said the man and spouse.
He felt like a mouse
whose plans had gang agley.

Giant Ramblings Through the Night

Nothing’s on my mind tonight
except that I would like to write
a modest verse, some simple thing
just ordinary, without bling,
but my mind’s blank except for this;
a silly verse you wouldn’t miss.

I think I’ll write it anyhow—
then maybe trade it for a cow
led by some hapless Jack or Jill
who’ll place it on a windowsill
where it will fall and overnight
grow very tall and out of sight,
then burst clouds through to skies of blue
(’cause that’s what poetry can do)
while tearing thunderclouds asunder,
reaching for some giant’s plunder!

But maybe it would be a blunder
trading it, and so I wonder
whether what I write tonight
might topple giants far from sight
or simply add to your delight—
your muses teasing you to write.

His Go-To Cat Mat

He’s an old fellow now,
his new go-to hot spot
is where we might find him—
he parks there a lot.

At rest on a bathmat,
his nose to the wall,
he seems to find comfort
in quiet withdrawal
just like many old cats
seeking solace and peace
in thoughts and in dreams
as their actions decrease.

A bit more affectionate
now than a kitten
when silent no-see-ums
would oft’ keep him smitten
and chasing his crazies
both daytime and night—
if we were awake
they caused fits of delight
but, when awakened
if we had been sleeping,
we’d moan and we’d groan,
“Is he really worth keeping?”

Yes. And although
he was often a pest,
we miss him a lot
since he’s gone to his rest.

Note: Our lovely old cat Oreo’s last day was August 27, 2023, a couple of months after I wrote all but the last stanza. His favorite spot those months was the bathmat next to the shower with his nose tucked into the corner. Cats are like that.

Ken Gosse usually writes short, rhymed verse using whimsy and humor in traditional meters. First published in First Literary Review–East in November 2016, since then in The Offbeat, Pure Slush, Parody, Home Planet News Online, Sparks of Calliope and others. Raised in the Chicago, Illinois, suburbs, now retired, he and his wife have lived in Mesa, AZ, over twenty years.