It lifted me into the air Out toward the window-sash— The lamp upon the table there Fell with a telltale crash,
Which roused my next-door neighbor up, The man from Tennessee, Who with his light came rushing in To learn what it could be.
Of course no wraith can stand the light— It must have made him sore To have his trunk dissolve in night While I sprawled on the floor.
As for the man from Tennessee And what had just occurred— With me in my pajamas there, I told him not a word.
I told him nothing for I knew He’d never understand— I asked him just to get a rag And wrap my bruiséd hand.
JUST CAT
We have a cat of common gray— In fact a plain and everyday Old Tab—to be exact I’d say She’s common in most every way.
She’s common in her manners quite, She’s never known the word “polite,” When dining with her neighbors, might To her cat mind is always right.