. Catoninetales; a domestic epic. eyes !And from his mouth projects a boneWhich with forepaws he triesTo wrench away. Alas ! the bone is stuckToo fast. O woe for her poor Robyns luck. Her end of bread and butter dropt, One rush into the house,A scream, a real Spring burst of tears, And then her head falls souseInto her marveling mothers lap. No little cat-scared mouseEer faster ran than she from fear of Rob, 44 FIFTH FYTTE And scarce could speak for interpose of sob That shook her. But at last betweenHer sobs came out one word : Rob, sob, then Rob, then sob : in thisSame order they
. Catoninetales; a domestic epic. eyes !And from his mouth projects a boneWhich with forepaws he triesTo wrench away. Alas ! the bone is stuckToo fast. O woe for her poor Robyns luck. Her end of bread and butter dropt, One rush into the house,A scream, a real Spring burst of tears, And then her head falls souseInto her marveling mothers lap. No little cat-scared mouseEer faster ran than she from fear of Rob, 44 FIFTH FYTTE And scarce could speak for interpose of sob That shook her. But at last betweenHer sobs came out one word : Rob, sob, then Rob, then sob : in thisSame order they quite a while ere any oneThe true adventure we went out and found him lying there,Dead, choked, with all his legs like telegraphpoles in the air. Nothing is gaind by sighs, my dear 1 Musing to Meg I you were twice as big, I fear, The Cat were no less things remain among the queer;And now its time for I choked off the choked ones little mourner,And happily swung my taile to Finis SIXTH FYTTE 45 HANGED Hang me in a pudding-bag like a cat! a eat likes mustard. Proverb. Q HANG THE CAT ! said Martin : But before it went that rough We had sufferd no end of trouble And given him rope enough. We had spring chickens that summer,A very promising brood ;And Robyn he went a-poachingLike any Robin would. ( Hood? ) Poachd eggs we never had minded, But chickens black and tan,Poachd in the cooks own manor,And not in a frying-pan. Three black, and two of a lovely brown,One speckled, and one all white : And the nasty thief, he ate them raw ;And the last was a favourite. 46 SIXTH FYTTE I have implored him, almost with tears, In a most intreating tone,Assuring him when the chicks grew up He never should lose a bone. I ve even been on my knees to him, Many a time and oft,Proving how wise it would be to wait: But he never was that soft. I prayd him for love of his mistress dear To let those nurslings alone ;But ever he turnd a deafer e
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