They are running and whirling and hiding,
They are wild who were once so confiding,
They are mad when the moon is riding
You will not catch the kittens soon!
They care not for saucers of milk,
They care not for pillows of silk,
Your softest, crooningest call
Means less than the buzzing of flies.
They are seeing more than you see,
They are hearing more than you hear,
And out of the darkness they peer
With a goblin light in their eyes!"
They are wild who were once so confiding,
They are mad when the moon is riding
You will not catch the kittens soon!
They care not for saucers of milk,
They care not for pillows of silk,
Your softest, crooningest call
Means less than the buzzing of flies.
They are seeing more than you see,
They are hearing more than you hear,
And out of the darkness they peer
With a goblin light in their eyes!"
But the Cat was not interested. He yawned. His mouth opened very wide, showing his sharp, curly tongue, and his whiskers stood out
