Mother Said I was Born Wicked

My grandma always used to repeat
"Don't go to any stranger's house to eat,
You never know how they cook they're meat
It looks good on top, but poisoned underneath,"
But I didn't listen to what she said
An old woman in black always gave me bread,
I went out to run an errand one day
She called me back and I heard her say,
"Little boy, come sit down please
Have a piece of my bun and cheese."
She always stood behind me
As I ate the bun and cheese,
Her hands rest on my shoulders
A widow's smile, and a will to please,
Was I her son in a former life?
What kindness she bestowed,
She must've known of my absent mother
Unconditional love she showed.
I never told granny anything,
About my little secret,
As long as she knew nothing
Then I was going to keep it,
Because every cat have different homes
But the one they liked the best,
Is always the place they get a real good feed
Then lie down and take a rest.
When I was hungry I used to cry
Waiting in the kitchen for the fish to fry,
Sitting on the box with crabs inside
Banging against it as louder I cried,
Shouting out for hunger
Till the last fish was fried,
Grandma Marriott, we gave her no rest
A thorn in the side and a pain in her chest,
We used to make catapults
From sticks and rubber bands,
And all kinds of bird traps
With our bare little hands,
We hunted wood pigeons
Caught birds, and found eggs
We sustained mutilations
Injuring arms and legs.