We happy Country Cats,
We think our lot the best
Of all the beastie-folk,
And pity all the rest.
We’ve miles of grass just right
For cushioned kitty-feet,
All velvet-soft to suit
A kitty scudding fleet.
_Pit-i-pat, pit-i-pat!_
And barky trees, where cats
Can climb, and sharpen claws,
And fright the foolish birds
With harmless _me-a-aws!_
And leafy garden-beds
Lie round us everywhere—
’Tis naughty little cats
That go and tumble there!
_Pit-i-pat, pit-i-pat!_
[Illustration: Creeping movement of fingers, the hands held well forward.
At end, children in seats, head bent, arms folded, to imitate cats curled
up in hay.]
And, O, the country nights!
A cat can travel far
And come and go all safe
By light of moon and star.
But best the dusky barn!
With mice, and mows of hay,
Where any cat can climb
And sleep the day away.
_Purr-purr-purr, purr, purr!_
There, when the cows come up—
O, listen, cats in town!
We hear in great milk-pails
The milk go streaming down!
And there on winter nights,
Deep in her haymow nest,
The peaceful Country Cat
Knows well her lot is best!
_Purr-purr-purr, purr, purr._
[Illustration]