When Splat The Rat Came For Tea

When Splat, the rat, came for tea, he asked me nicely if he could sit on my knee.

He wouldn’t sit still and he wouldn’t behave; he ate all the cake that my nana had baked.

He refused to drink tea and said, “The coffee’s too hot”, but the cola was nice so he guzzled the lot.

He nibbled a sandwich then spat it all out; he said that the seeds in the bread hurt his mouth.

Splat! You naughty rat!

He thought it was fun to throw grapes in the air; he really was rude, he just didn’t care.

My brother was crying because Splat stole his spoon; he said it belonged to the man in the moon.

Bertie, my dog, who was asleep on the floor, was rudely awoken when Splat slammed the door.

Splat ran to the kitchen and opened the fridge; he spotted a saveloy lying there on a dish.

Splat! You naughty rat!

The saveloy was eaten along with some pickles; then all of a sudden Splat started to giggle.

The fizz from the cola he’d really enjoyed came out of his bottom with such a loud noise.

There was a stunned silence; then Splat scampered off. He was looking for more food he wanted to scoff.

Outside to the dustbin was where Splat was going. The binbag as usual was near overflowing.

Splat! You naughty rat!

Splat dived in the bag and there he did find an old smelly kipper and six bacon rinds.

Bertie, the dog, who was sat on the lawn, noticed that Splat was beginning to yawn.

All of this eating was getting quite tiring; Splat’s tummy was full – there was no denying.

“Time to go home and lie down for a nap, but don’t worry”, said Splat, “you know I’ll be back!”