THE NAUGHTY KITTEN.
She was only a little kitten,
And her fur was very wet,
But her face was round and very soft,
And her hair was black as jet.
This was the kitten's story,
And I think you'll weep to hear,
That she woke one summer's morning
In a temper bad—I fear!
She pulled her mother's whiskers,
And scratched her sister's nose,
And while her brother drank his milk,
She stamped upon his toes.
And then she left the straw place,
In spite of mother's words,
And ran along the meadow,
To tease the little birds.
But as she frisked and trotted,
A fearful sight she saw:
A creature with a scarlet comb,
And a gigantic claw.
It said in voice stentorian,
“Ah! cock-a-doodle doo,”
Which meant although she did not know,
“Small pussy—how d'ye do?”
She turned and fled in terror,
Across the meadow wide,
But she did not see the duck pond,
Until she fell inside!
Then such a splash and mewing,
Made all the field resound;
And if a true friend had not come,
She would have straight been drowned.
This naughty little kitten,
Was whipped and put to bed,
And if you talk of duck ponds,
She always hangs her head.
C. E. C. Warner.
