Before the inky cat could tell,
We got on her a jingling bell,
So, now at all if she would dare
And saunter in without a care
To steal a lick of creamy milk,
We’ll catch her by her scruffy silk
And take her to the garden grass
To show the bowl of burnished brass
In which we’ll leave her dairy drink,
Beside a plate of plastic pink
In which we’ll leave her meaty treats,
Which no one in the fam’ly eats.

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