  THAT BLINKIN' CAT.(Late of H.M.S. Maidstone.) Battered and scarred with years of strife behind the door she sleeps, Fighting her battles o'er again as ancient warriors may, With bristling fur as she dreams anew of many a noble fray. Savage and Silent, Swift in the onslaught As the great eagle Stoops to the victim; Guard of the Gangway, Dreadful—prolific, Mother of hundreds, Terrier-Strafer, Messenger-biter. Hail to the guard of the Maidstone's Gangway—Skoal! Sing of the day the air was full of words like "Alabaster," When she ate a piece of the Corporal's hand and bit the Quartermaster; The day she fought with an Airedale dog and drove him back to shore— For the sake of her sixty little ones, she fought—and had some more. Faithful and loyal, Guard of the Gangway, Turning the dogs back— Yelping and howling. Biting her masters— Corporals—any one Fiercely domestic, Easily queen of— Pugnacious obstetrics— Motherly War. Hail to the terror and pride of the Maidstone—Skoal!! Sing of the day she won the fray with a new "Pandora" dog, And the Quartermaster shone with pride as he entered in the log: "At 10 P.M. we dowsed our pipes and drew the Nettle's fires, At 10.15 six births aboard—that blinkin' cat of ours!" |
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