Tib she was always called, for why?
It was her mother’s name,
And lively was the kitten’s eye,
And active was her frame.
The soft, warm coat that covered her,
Was goodly to the sight,
For spots of grey and yellow fur
Shone ’mid the milky white.
She quickly learned both rat and mouse
To combat and surprise,
For these abounded in the house
Where first Tib oped her eyes.
One half the year she tarried here,
And then went to reside
With Mrs. H., who lived quite near,
(Her cat had lately died.)
There play’d she many a youthful trick,
Which gain’d her great applause;
The rolling ball she’d follow quick,
And seize between her paws.
The floating feather she would chase,
And with a spring attain;
Nor buzzing fly could rest in peace
About the window pane.
But one mischievous trick of puss
I mention to her shame;
To see the mistress of the house
A gentle lady came.
Tib saw the bonnet of the guest
Most carefully laid down,
Then quickly comes to take her rest
Within the satin crown.
Miss Tibby’s head, and tail, and ears,
Into this quiet station
Are drawn, and not a hair appears
To common observation.
At length the lady took her hat,—
And how they all did stare
And laugh to see a sleeping cat
So snugly nestled there.