POEMS.
61
SIMS.
HE cannot boast a pedigree
As thoroughbred as it might be,
And yet his Persian mother's coat
Is of itself a thing of note!
Oh! full of frolic and of whims
Is dear old Sims.
As thoroughbred as it might be,
And yet his Persian mother's coat
Is of itself a thing of note!
Oh! full of frolic and of whims
Is dear old Sims.
He has a splendid fur, I ween,
The darkest tabby I have seen,
With markings of the tiger laid
Alternately in light and shade,
Gold eyes like wine, a nut-brown nose,
And inky toes.
The darkest tabby I have seen,
With markings of the tiger laid
Alternately in light and shade,
Gold eyes like wine, a nut-brown nose,
And inky toes.
He thinks a bird is very nice
But hardly cares to look at mice,
He has an aristocratic aim
Of pouncing on all sorts of game!
Brimful of mischief and of whims
Is dainty Sims.
But hardly cares to look at mice,
He has an aristocratic aim
Of pouncing on all sorts of game!
Brimful of mischief and of whims
Is dainty Sims.
In truth he is a dainty cat,
He scorns a plump and well-fed rat,
And walks aside with nose in air,
As if he mocked at such low fare;
He hardly cares to sniff its limbs,
So proud is Sims!
He scorns a plump and well-fed rat,
And walks aside with nose in air,
As if he mocked at such low fare;
He hardly cares to sniff its limbs,
So proud is Sims!
Of elevation he can boast
When sitting on the linen-post!
When sitting on the linen-post!
