A POET had a cat. | |
There is nothing odd in that— | |
(I might make a little pun about the Mews!) | |
But what is really more | |
Remarkable, she wore | 5 |
A pair of pointed patent-leather shoes. | |
And I doubt me greatly whether | |
E'er you heard the like of that: | |
Pointed shoes of patent-leather | |
On a cat! | 10 |
|
His time he used to pass | |
Writing sonnets, on the grass— | |
(I might say something good on pen and sward!) | |
While the cat sat near at hand, | |
Trying hard to understand | 15 |
The poems he occasionally roared. | |
(I myself possess a feline, | |
But when poetry I roar | |
He is sure to make a bee-line | |
For the door.) | 20 |
|
The poet, cent by cent, | |
All his patrimony spent— | |
(I might tell how he went from verse to werse!) | |
Till the cat was sure she could, | |
By advising, do him good. | 25 |
So addressed him in a manner that was terse: | |
"We are bound toward the scuppers, | |
And the time has come to act, | |
Or we'll both be on our uppers | |
For a fact!" | 30 |
|
On her boot she fixed her eye, | |
But the boot made no reply— | |
(I might say: "Couldn't speak to save its sole!") | |
And the foolish bard, instead | |
Of responding, only read | 35 |
A verse that wasn't bad upon the whole. | |
And it pleased the cat so greatly, | |
Though she knew not what it meant, | |
That I'll quote approximately | |
How it went:— | 40 |
|
"If I should live to be | |
The last leaf upon the tree"— | |
(I might put in: "I think I'd just as leaf!") | |
"Let them smile, as I do now, | |
At the old forsaken bough"— | 45 |
Well, he'd plagiarized it bodily, in brief! | |
But that cat of simple breeding | |
Couldn't read the lines between, | |
So she took it to a leading | |
Magazine. | 50 |
|
She was jarred and very sore | |
When they showed her to the door. | |
(I might hit off the door that was a jar!) | |
To the spot she swift returned | |
Where the poet sighed and yearned, | 55 |
And she told him that he'd gone a little far. | |
"Your performance with this rhyme has | |
Made me absolutely sick," | |
She remarked. "I think the time has | |
Come to kick!" | 60 |
|
I could fill up half the page | |
With descriptions of her rage— | |
(I might say that she went a bit too fur!) | |
When he smiled and murmured: "Shoo!" | |
"There is one thing I can do!" | 65 |
She answered with a wrathful kind of purr. | |
"You may shoo me, and it suit you, | |
But I feel my conscience bid | |
Me, as tit for tat, to boot you!" | |
(Which she did.) | 70 |
|
The Moral of the plot | |
(Though I say it, as should not!) | |
Is: An editor is difficult to suit. | |
But again there're other times | |
When the man who fashions rhymes | 75 |
Is a rascal, and a bully one to boot! |