Jones’ collie and Mallory’s hound
Were discussing a new-found bone
With vicious snarling and snapping
And other unseemly behaviour....
On the fence above them I sat
Distressed....
Neither dared touch the prize....
Nor would either allow the other.
Then Jerry and Joe both whistled....
The bone lies forgotten and wasted.
FORTY-SECOND CATERWAUL
It grew very warm in the house,
The Mallorys mopping and sweating—
Perspiration is fuel for temper—
Even I couldn’t stand the heat
Nor tell them no windows were open....
But cats are always too obvious;
So I went out for a walk.
FORTY-THIRD CATERWAUL
Alice is dead of consumption....
All Jack’s efforts were useless;
Disconsolate he tried to comfort
The last of her wasted moments....
“God will forgive you,” he whispered....
Yet who is the judge of the Damned?—
And Joe is much disappointed
Though he feels he may have hurried
Alice’s end.... I wonder
What I repent?—or is it only
Regret?
