3 June 2012
My cat comes in to the room, His fur is the color of a broom, But his tail is the color of the moon, And his mew sounds like a bassoon.
He curled up on my bed, He must be as big as a shed, His paws are as big as his head, And he likes marmite and bread.
He has scratches on his nose, He probably cut it on a thorn of a rose, Everyday out of the door he goes, I suppose he likes to go outside for a doze.
He sleeps in his nest, Having his afternoon rest, The time he likes best, I think he likes the house less.
Opuss № I