Poems (Elliott)/Beauty
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For works with similar titles, see Beauty.
Beauty
Underneath my throne my kitty,
Eats his bread and peanut-butter,
And I think 'tis such a pity
That his thoughts he cannot utter.
Eats his bread and peanut-butter,
And I think 'tis such a pity
That his thoughts he cannot utter.
Beauty is his name, and beauty
Is he too, by name and nature,
For his only thought is duty,
Regardless of all nomenclature.
Is he too, by name and nature,
For his only thought is duty,
Regardless of all nomenclature.
Mice and rabbits (Welsh and other),
Is he very fond of eating,
He of little birds and mother,
Partakes too, e'en though with beating.
Is he very fond of eating,
He of little birds and mother,
Partakes too, e'en though with beating.
Yet we love him, nor can help it,
Little comrade, friend, and brother,
We just hug him and forget it,
Little cat like any other.
Little comrade, friend, and brother,
We just hug him and forget it,
Little cat like any other.