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Where old Spot had hid them
So snugly away.
Such wee bits of kitties
You never did see,
And one was for Willie
And one was for me.
But one of those kitties
Strayed off from his mother,
Then my little Tibby
Had no more a brother.
Now she and old Spot
Scarce notice each other,
For Tibby, though young,
Is now a fond mother.
While grandmother Spot
Is roaming about
Not one rat or mouse
Will dare to come out.
And Tibby's a mouser,—
She'll soon teach her kitty
To chase them about
Without any pity.
