In ye olden times it would rain and rain and rain... the cats and dogs would drown and float about in the streets....
Watch out, mirth - dont step in that little poodle!
Threat'ning with Deluge this devoted Town.
Now from all Parts the swelling Kennels flow,
And bear their Trophies with them as they go:
Filth of all Hues and Odours seem to tell
What Street they sail'd from, by their Sight and Smell.
They, as each Torrent drives, with rapid Force,
From Smithfield or St. Pulchre's shape their Course,
And in huge Confluent join'd at Snow-Hill Ridge,
Fall from the Conduit, prone to Holbourn-Bridge.
Sweeping from Butchers Stalls, Dung, Guts, and Blood,
Drown'd Puppies, stinking Sprats, all drench'd in Mud,
Dead Cats and Turnip-Tops come tumbling down the Flood.
aren't you glad you asked?
I'd hazard a guess at a whirlwind sucking them up and dropping them a few miles down the road
probably from new zealand or somewhere stupid like that
That's where they originally came from.