THE CAT: 



And yet, for that thou hast, I ween, 

 So oft our favoured playmate been, 

 Soft be the change which thou shalt prove, 

 When time hath spoiled thee of our love ; 

 Still be thou deemed, by housewife fat, 

 A comely, careful, mousing cat, 

 Whose dish is, for the public good, 

 Replenished oft with savoury food. 

 Nor, when thy span of life be past, 

 Be thou to pond or dunghill cast; 

 But gently borne on good man's spade, 

 Beneath the decent sod be laid, 

 And children show with glistening eyes, 

 The place where poor old Pussy lies. 



Joanna Baillie. 



