Page 21 - Poetry-Animals

The cupboard’s buttoned at the top
And bolted down below,
There’s nothing open but the trap,
Wherever I may go.

The dish is empty of the beans,
There’s nothing there to steal;
The cat is sleeping on the bag
That holds the barley meal.

I rather think she’s shamming, too,
I watched her nigh an hour,
And thought a false composure lay
Upon her visage sour.

SHE.
“Are you a mouse, and know the house,
From garret floor to ground,
And still afraid to make a raid
Because the cat’s around?

If I could leave these babies
Without a mother’s care,
I’d get a sackful, never fear,
And eat my supper there!”

HE.
“I am a mouse, a brave one, too;
Another chance I’ll take:
If I’m not back in half an hour
You’ll know the cat’s awake.

—Palmer Cox (Little Folks, 1883)

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