Said they: "Why longer fear her power?
'Tis time our strength to try.
We'll hang her by the neck this hour,
Or in the effort die!"
Two pistols and a carving-knife,
A rifle and a rope,
Were instruments of war enough
To justify their hope.
So with the Captain in the front,
The hangman in the rear,
They started out to search for puss
Without a thought of fear.
Through silent halls and broken walls
With cautious step and slow,
And furtive glances right and left,
From room to room they go.
Now pausing by a nook or sill,
Where trouble might be found,
Now crowding close and closer still
At every trifling sound.
But when before an open door
The cat appeared in sight,
The very instruments they bore
Seemed paralyzed with fright.
The Captain shrinking in the van,
The hangman crouched behind,
The pistol-shot and rifleman
Had but a single mind.
In doubt and dread they turned and fled,
And lucky mice were they
To find a hole so large that all
At once could run away.
TWILIGHT.