Monday, 3 November 2014


Some one saw a pussycat
And lured her to my door
With a bowl of breakfast milk,
And she came back for more.

She was a lovely creature
With soft and cuddly fur
That anyone who saw her
Could not but adore.

And she had admirers
Of her own ilk
With whom she soon was wont to
Share my breakfast milk.

But some one will regret it
When next she sees my face,
For the smell of cats' Malacca
Is all around the place.

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