Dave is quite a little cat
With slender tail and stomach fat;
Who looks at this,
Who looks at that,
And swings on curtains thick and thin
And never thinks that this is sin.
He digs in flower-pots with much zest,
A cat-like form of subtle jest;
He opens doors with gentle paw,
But how its done I'm still not sure.
His banshee calls can make one quail
Unless there's water in the pail;
But, all in all, we get on well,
Or that's the story Dave does tell.
Mill Field
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/gen-dave/
