Here lies a kitten good, who kept
A kitten's proper place.
He stole no pantry eatables,
Nor scratched the baby's face.
*He let the alley-cats alone*.
He had no yowling vice.
His shirt was always laundried well,
He freed the house of mice.
Until his death he had not caused
His little mistress tears,
He wore his ribbon prettily,
*He washed behind his ears*.
Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong.




Yankee Doodle



This poem is intended as a description of a sort of Blashfield mural painting
on the sky. To be sung to the tune of Yankee Doodle, yet in a slower,
more orotund fashion. It is presumably an exercise for an entertainment
on the evening of Washington's Birthday.


Dawn this morning burned all red
Watching them in wonder.
There I saw our spangled flag