Dame Trot once went to a neighbouring fair.
And what do you think she bought herself there?
A pussy! the prettiest ever was seen;
No cat was so gentle, so clever and clean.
Each dear little paw was as black as a sloe,
The rest of her fur was white as the snow,
Her eyes were bright green, and her sweet little face
Was pretty and meek, full of innocent grace.
Dame Trot hurried home with this beautiful cat;
Went upstairs to take off her cloak and her hat;
And when she came down she was astonished to see
That Pussy was busy preparing the tea.
"Oh, what a strange cat!" thought poor little Dame Trot,
"She'll break my best china and upset the pot."
But no harm befell them: the velvety paws
Were quite sure; the Dame for alarm had no cause.
Next morning when little Dame Trot came downstairs,
To attend as usual, to household affairs,
She found that the kitchen was swept up as clean
As if Puss a regular servant had been.
The tea stood to draw, and the toast was done brown;
The Dame very pleased to her breakfast sat down;
While Puss by her side on an armchair sat up,
And lapped her warm milk from a nice china cup.
Now Spot, the old house-dog, looked on in amaze,
He'd never been used to such queer cattish ways,
Put Puss mewed so sweetly, and moved with such grace,
That Spot at last liked her, and licked her white face.
Poor little Dame Trot had no money to spare,
And only too often her cupboard was bare;
Then kind Mrs Pussy would catch a nice fish,
And serve it for dinner upon a clean dish.
The rats and the mice, who wished Pussy to please,
Were now never seen at the butter and cheese;
The Dame daily found that their numbers grew thinner,
For Puss ate a mouse every day for her dinner.
If Puss had a weakness, I need but confess
'Twas a girl of the period's fancy for dress,
Her greatest desire a high chignon and hat,
And a very short dress _a la mode_ for a cat.
So one day when Dame Trot had gone out to dine,
Puss dressed herself up, as she thought, very fine,
And coaxed kind old Spot, who looked at her with pride,
To play pony for her, and give her a ride.
Now Spot, who to welcome his mistress desired,
And to "company manners" had never aspired,
Jumped up to fawn on her--and down came the cat,
And crushed, in her tumble, her feather and hat.
"Oh, puss!" said Dame Trot, "what a very sad mess!
You'd best have remained in your natural dress;
The graces which Nature so kindly bestows
Are more often hid than improved by fine clothes.