Where You Meet the Cat
In this wonderful land, no, this wonderland
Is where you see his, no, its noticeable teeth bearing grin.
And when you reach a fork in the road, you'll know.
Its entrance to Jabberwocky.
In his, no, its lazy perch, it will call you by name,
Whether or not you had the manners to present it yourself.
Now this cat right here, after calling your name, perhaps may seem quite mad.
Not the typical mad to be exchanged with anger but the one they have a special asylum for.
He, no, it will continue on with some amusing conversation,
Though at some times, one would find its words quite vexing.
It will give the impression of someone, no, something that knows
And what it knows…well, you know.
But then you don't.
That there, is the reason it waits.
As your questions are voiced, you can be sure it wont lie,
But never be sure of your mind.
For that's his, no, its formidable skill.
Causing trouble by encouraging your own madness.
Your not mad you say?
For we beg to differ. We're all mad here.
How would we know, you wonder?
Everyone here is mad, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
Anyway he, no, it will be certain to raise some philological points,
Ones to baffle, ones to annoy.
Yet most find it all quiet enchanting.
Then again, we have all agreed we're mad.
Either way, you'll be on your way,
To the left or to the right.
But only after he, no, it disappears,
Nothing left behind but its Cheshire grin.
Its exit to Jabberwocky.