Our cat she had five little ones,
As every person knew;
Their names were "Flossie," "Snowball," "Smut,"
With "Kit," and little "Mew."
One day on foraging intent,
She leaped upon a cage,
But after sniffing round a while
Vexed thoughts her mind engage.
"How very sad it is," thought she,
"That every single linnet
Has been removed before we came!
The cage has nothing in it!
"However, I have dined to-day,
So now for quiet rest;
My children, you may go and play,
For frolic suits you best."
With folded paws she laid her down,
And meditative look,
While every wicked little cat
Its own diversion took.
Said Snowball to his brother Kit,
"Get out of this—now do;
For Smut and I, we live in here,
And there's no room for you!
"And Smut feels rather sick to-day,
He told me so just now;
So off you go, again I say,
Or there will be a row.
"And Kit, just leave that stick alone;
Come, drop it now at once;
Of all the cats I ever knew
You are the greatest dunce."
Cried little Smut, "Quick, Snowball, quick!
Or you will be too late;
Here's sister Flossie pushing in;
Come quick, and shut the gate."
"How strange it seems, when you and I,
Dear Snowball, are so good,
That other cats should be so pert,
Inquisitive and rude!"
Said mother Puss, "This summer day
I thought to lie at rest,
While my dear children romp and play,
Which seems to suit them best.
"But really, how they snarl and fight,
And kick, and growl, and riot!
Ah, well! when they are old like me
They'll like a little quiet."