Three little kittens and a bottle of milk
one dressed in rugs, one dressed in cotton, the third dressed in silk.

Three little kittens with thirst unquenched
around the bottle, the first staggered, the second slid, the third wrenched.

Three little kittens would go to war
to secure, the bottle with the milk, which would suffice for all.

Three little kittens driven by need
found the bottle of milk, which they wouldn’t share, out of greed.

Three little kittens fought for the prize
the rich one war monger, the mid class cunning, the poor one wise.

Three little kittens, proposed their solutions
the rich one swaggered forth and announced, this milk is mine, have no illusions.

Two little kittens listened petrified
the mid class courageously, stood strong, full of pride.

One little kitten could sense the end
around the bottle, death would triumph, before the night would descend.

Three little kittens fighting for days
under the burning sun & the chilling moon, as the milk in the bottle decays.

Three little kittens lying dead
around a bottle of spoilt milk, unquenched thirst, greed, bloodshed.

Three little kittens for the prowling beasts
three carrions, for the buzzard that circles, lands and feasts.