An open cage, some feathers fair,
Two little maidens crying,
And Pussy seated on a chair,
The mournful scene espying.
Tear after tear rolls down each cheek,
Sob after sob arises,
While Puss, as well as she can speak,
Calmly soliloquises!
“If they would keep a bird in cage,
They should not leave it undone;
For that’s the tale in every jail
From Panama to London.
Their ducks and chicks they pet and feed,
And yet I’ve often noted,
They eat the very birds indeed
To which they’re most devoted.
Then wherefore look so cross and sour,
Why make this sad commotion?
Why should not I a bird devour
For whom I’ve no devotion!”