There once liv'd a young man who was very poor. For all that he had was a Cat; His food being gone, he could get no more, And so he resolv'd to kill that.
Now Puss from the cupboard came out and thus spoke, "Grieve not my good master, I pray, Provide me with boots, and a bag—'tis no joke— Your fortune I'll make then straightway."
Puss baited his bag with parsley and bread, And away to a warren he hied, Where he laid himself down as if he was dead, Until some young rabbits he spied.
One entered the bag, puss pull'd at the string, The rabbit was kill'd in a trice, Puss said this fine game I'll take to the king, I'm sure he will say it is nice.
Next day to a wheat-field Grimalkin repair'd, And there two fine partridges caught, These he took to the king who kindly enquired, From whence the fine present was brought.
"From the Marquis Carabas, great Monarch," said he, "These birds and the rabbit I bring," They both were accepted, and puss in high glee Receiv'd a reward from the king.
This king took a journey, his kingdom to view, With his daughter so fine and so