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Cat Poetry

    Verses on a Cat

    A cat in distress,
    Nothing more, nor less;
    Good folks, I must faithfully tell ye,
    As I am a sinner,
    It waits for somne dinner
    To stuff out its own little belly.

    You would not easily guess
    All the modes of distress
    Which torture the tenants of earth;
    And the various evils,
    Which like so many devils,
    Attend the poor souls from their birth.

    Some a living require,
    And others desire
    An old fellow out of the way;
    And which is the best
    I leave to be guessed,
    For I cannot pretend to say.

    One wants society,
    Another variety,
    Others a tranquil life;
    Some want food.
    Others, as good,
    Only want a wife.

    But this poor little cat
    Only wanted a rat,
    To stuff its own little maw;
    And it were as good
    Some people had such food,
    To mkae them hold their jaw.

    Percy Bysshe Shelley




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