Like what you chucked in your waste-treaty-basket,
Torn into fragments, bit by little bit;
In these rude times we shrink
From vain expenditure of pulp and ink.
You hoped to start a further scrap of paper
And stretched a flattering paw in soft appeal,
Purring as hard as tiger-cats at play purr
With velvet padding round your claws of steel;
A pretty piece of acting,
But, ere we treat, those claws'll want extracting.