Concerning Cats in Poetry 



" Now, on one dreary winter's night O'Flynn she went to bed 

 With a whiskey bottle under her arm, the whislcey in her head. 

 The six great large tom-cats they all sat in a dismal row. 

 And horridly glared their hazy eyes, their tails wagged to and fro. 



" At last one grim graymalkin spoke, in accents dire to tell, 

 And dreadfijl were the words which in his horrid whisper fell : 

 And all the six large tom-cats in answer loud did squall, 

 'Let's kill her, and let's eat her, body, bones, and all.' 



"Oh, horrible ! Oh, terrible ! Oh, deadly tale to tell ! 

 When the sun shone through the window-hole all seem&d still 



and well : 

 The cats they sat and licked their paws all in a merry ring. 

 But nothing else in all the house looked like a living thing. 



"Anon they quarrelled savagely — they spit, they swore, they 



hollered : 

 At last these six great large tom-cats they one another s wallered : 

 And naught but one long tail was left in that once peaceful 



dwelling. 

 And a very tough one, too, it was — it's the same that I've been 



telling." 



By far more artistic is the version for which I am 

 indebted to Miss Katharine Eleanor Conway, herself 

 a poet of high order and a lover of cats. 



THE KILKENNY CATS 



There wanst was two cats in Kilkenny, 

 Aitch thought there was one cat too many ; 



So they quarrelled and fit, 



They scratched and they bit, 

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