And am fresh as a rose and neat as a pin.
But you any day in the sun may be seen,
Just rubbing yourself with your red little tongue;
I admire the grace with which it is done—
But really, now, are you sure you get yourself clean?”
The cat, who sat swelling with rage and surprise
At this, could no longer her fury contain,
For she had always supposed herself rather precise,
And of her sleek neatness had been somewhat vain;
So she flew at poor doggy and boxed both his ears,