O gray cat,
Often have I sought your wise counsel;
You stink of fish,
You never blink,
And you are happy as a cloud.
Take your heedless head out of that trash can
And tell me what to do now--
It is Ann,
She will not love me.
Stop batting at yellow butterflies long enough to tell me
Why she must be so cruel
And so carelessly beautiful.
Try to keep your eyes open long enough
As you doze on the porch rail,
To tell me why
My heart must break?
She would love you!
She would clap her hands and follow you like a sweet breeze,
Holding out her heart like tea on a tray!
Stick my head in the garbage can?
Bat at yellow butterflies and then
Doze off as she pours out her heart
As I am doing with you now?
She might throw an old shoe at both of us, you know--
Still, I will set out sweet cream
In the gray dawn each day;
Set it out with my hopes
Til, gray cat,
You steal them away.