Among the outcasts in the cellar Tarnished silver, ripped umbrella Broken teapot, tattered books Sentiment everywhere I look As a refugee from the sewer My sentiments are far fewer The pungent odour in my hair Washed out by rain in open air The dark sludge trails on my feet Walked off on grass and pebbled street In fact the only thing that's left Tuberculosis on my chest Everything else I've left behind Searching for a better life When human tenants come to dump More and more nostalgic junk I offer handshake with paw licked clean But I'm met with a rather frightened scream Is it my rodent face with beady eyes Not unlike the screaming wife Maybe its the place I make my home In dusty cellar left well alone And maybe the way I kill my prey And how often I do it three times a day Thats it I bet so next time I see These timid humans come near me I'll ask for a plate of dead roast beef And perhaps a matress for me to sleep Surely then they must oblige My modest wishes to live my life