Mrs. Ritz spits out bits of olive pits
from the knitted chair in which she always sits.
Her entire house is filled with strange mementos.
She freely admits addiction to pimentos.
She’s surrounded by her cats, a baker’s dozen,
every one related, uncle, aunt or cousin.
Also in the mix are her two feisty parrots,
who will dance and sing if tempted by raw carrots.
They prefer old gospel songs or Broadway tunes.
One sings like Hank Williams while the other croons.
Neighbors who drop by to see her day to day
say it all seems like an Ionesco play.
Cats run up the curtains, chase around and fight,
while the birds duet on Hank’s "I Saw The Light."