The Cat that sings at dead of night
I pelt with bricks, and boots and things,
Oh, for the luck to kill outright
The Cat that sings!
It is as when at evening rings
Melodeon-music, only slight-
ly worse it tears your bosom-strings.
And if at last you chance to smite
Him over,—as to life he springs,
He simply screeches with delight—