Verses on a Cat
A cat in distress,Nothing more, nor less;Good folks, I must faithfully tell ye,As I am a sinner,It waits for some dinnerTo stuff out its own little belly.
You would not easily guessAll the modes of distressWhich torture the tenants of earth;And the various evils,Which like so many devils,Attend the poor souls from their birth.
Some a living require,And others desireAn old fellow out of the way;And which is the bestI leave to be guessed,For I cannot pretend to say.
One wants society,Another variety,Others a tranquil life;Some want food,Others, as good,Only want a wife.
But this poor little catOnly wanted a rat,To stuff out its own little maw;And it were as goodSOME people had such food,To make them HOLD THEIR JAW!
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