My Feat is...

Only my feet too big to fruit  
those that hide in all birthday suits,
those that irritate like mad cats  
or those great big concrete slab hats  
I dither now, which way to choose?  
  
There are things which glow green cloud chutes  
beyond the isle of lamb-like-brutes  
whom, have no grief coz not got mats,
Only my feet...  
  
I'll teach those brute lambs how to toot  
tunes show birthday suits shorter routes
to rehouse those scratching mad cats  
beneath that concrete slab hat, that's  
why, there's nothing here which to loot,
Only my feet...