Who said that if a cat is
Then she must, without fail,
Lap her milk up from a saucer,
Be lazy and self-assured.
To spread fear among the mice
So they'd dare not venture out,
Sitting in their burrows day and night
Weeping bitter tears, no doubt.
Who said that if a cat is
Then the magpie takes a fright,
And the other birds as well:
What a dreadful, wild beast, quite!
Snitch a sausage from the kitchen,
Shred the lounge once more,
Chase a fly around for ages
And cause a proper ruckus galore.
Yes, some cats are just like that,
But our Smudge is a little one
Very kind and innocent,
Wouldn't hurt a single mouse, not one!
He won't touch the birds at all
Nor will he tear the curtains down,
He'd be quite surprised, I'd say:
'Why carry on like that, I'd frown?'
He's a well-mannered young kitten:
He plays fetch with the pup.
Milk, alas, he doesn't like,
He eats rissoles and bread rolls up.
He wouldn't harm even a fly,
He has mates all around,
Those are just rumours about cats,
I'm telling you that now, I'm sound.
Who said that if a cat is
Then surely a wild beast it'll be?
As long as there's a home and a bowl,
He'll be the best mate, believe me!
Well, if he gets a bit mischievous,
It's only out of love, you see,
He gets jealous of your work
And misses you terribly, just like me!
