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A nice crackling fire

     And a warm cosy chair;

A tummy that’s fish-full -

     And he’s almost there.

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Human voices are muffled

     And then gently fade - - - 

And this puss-cat’s small body

     Is quite gently laid.

 

His eyelids soon close

     And they shut out the day.

Then this tired tabby’s mind

     Quite gently will stray - - -

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But tell me of what

     Does this tabby cat dream?

Oh that’s easy: fish suppers

     And dishes of cream.

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Copyright on all my poems

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