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by S L Smith

In purradise shall I decree
A stately castle built for me,
Where plump and juicy mice will crawl,
And cower ‘neath my velvet paw.
A cat-bed,
four-poster in design,
Stuffed with swansdown shall be mine With catnip scented pillows laid Whereon to rest my feline head.
Foamy whiteness,
creamy sweet,
Shall fill the bowl wherefrom I eat,
And meats laid upon a silver tray,
Shall be presented through the day – With breast of pheasant,
tongue of lark,
Laid before me should I ask,
All washed down with catnip wine,
If I but ask,
it shall be mine.
No litter tray my rump demeans,
However scented,
though so clean,
But golden sands and honest earth,
So my paws shall dig fresh dirt,
A screen of grasses shall provide A private place for me to hide When to my toilet I attend,
In these fields Elysian.
Birds shall fly away no more,
But perch upon my upraised paw,
Until I grow tired of their song,
And in one bite they shall be gone.
And fish and mice shall give me play,
Should I desire the hunt or chase,
Before I settle down replete With all the fancies I would eat.
In purradise shall I decree A stately castle built for me.

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