From bad to worse went these naughty pups—
It's almost past believing,
But yet, I assure you, 'tis a fact,
That now they took to thieving.
They soon fell into bad company;
And certain unprincipled poodles,
And idle mongrels, and bob-tailed curs,
Were the consorts of Tiny and Toodles.
They let these bad dogs into the house,
Where a pot of milk was standing;
In quest of which they scampered upstairs,
As far as the first-floor landing.
But Betty, the cook, was scrubbing the stairs,
With a mop and a pail of water;
And Tiny ran off, with his head in the pot,
While the rest yelled out for quarter.
How Tiny hunted the Cat, and what he got by it.
Now little Miss Jane had a Persian cat.
Whose fur was soft and silky;
Whose tail was long, and whose eyes were blue,
And whose color was white and milky.
This was a quiet, good-natured cat.
And Master Tiny knew it;
He said, “I'll frighten her out of her wits:
Just watch me, Toodles—I'll do it.”
So he ran at Puss, with a yelp and a snap,
As fast as he was able;
Across the paddock, and through the yard,
And over the fence by the stable.
But Puss turned suddenly, scratched his nose,
And set him yelling and weeping;
And Tiny owned, with a rueful face,
That he wished he'd left her sleeping.