98
THE BLACK CAT
How that scarlet cushion is suited to you, For every witch has her scarlet cloak,Do you hope I will prove your friend, now, do you? When your reputation goes up in smoke,And your air respectable proves you liar,Who danced all night round a goblin fire!
You would not confess . . . tho' we understood What you meant by purrs . . . or a high meaw,You intend that the world shall deem you good, You will throw your dust in our eyes somehow!. . . Tho' the pads of your small pink feet are sore,When the moon is full, you will dance once more!
