Waked by a somerset, whirling From cushion to floor; Waked to a wild rush for safety From window to door.
Waking to hands that first smooth us, And then pull our tails; Punished with slaps when we show them The length of our nails!
These big mortal tyrants even grudge us A place on the mat. Do they think we enjoy for our music Staccatoes of "scat"?
To be treated, now, just as you treat us,-- The question is pat,-- To take just our chances in living, Would _you_ be a cat?
Want any papers, Mister? Wish you'd buy 'em of me-- Ten year old, an' a fam'ly, An' bizness dull, you see. Fact, Boss! There's Tom, an' Tibby, An' Dad, an' Mam, an Mam's cat, None on 'em earning money-- What do you think of that?
_Couldn't Dad work_? Why yes, Boss, He's working for gov'ment now,-- They give him his board for nothin',-- All along of a drunken row. _An' Mam_? Well, she's in the poorhouse,-- Been there a year or so; So I'm taking care of the others, Doing as well as I know.
_Oughtn't to live so_? Why, Mister, What's a feller to do? Some nights, when I'm tired an' hungry, Seems as if each on 'em knew-- They'll all three cuddle around me, Till I get cheery, and say: Well, p'raps I'll have sisters an' brothers, An' money an' clothes, too, some day.
But if I do git rich, Boss, (An' a lecturin' chap one night Said newsboys could be Presidents If only they acted right); So, if I was President, Mister, The very first thing I'd do, I'd buy poor Tom an' Tibby A dinner--an' Mam's cat, too!
None o' your scraps an' leavin's, But a good square meal for all three; If you think I'd skimp my friends, Boss, That shows you don't know me. So 'ere's your papers--come take one, Gimme a lift if you can-- For now you've heard my story, You see I'm a fam'ly man!
I like little pussy, her coat is so warm, And if I don't hurt her, she'll do me no harm; So I'll not pull her tail, nor drive her away, But pussy and I very gently will play:
She shall sit by my side, and I'll give her some food; And she'll love me, because I am gentle and good. I'll pat little pussy, and then she will purr, And thus show her thanks for my kindness to her.
They in the valley's sheltering care, Soon crop the meadow's tender prime, And when the sod grows brown and bare, The shepherd strives to make them climb