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Our three cats is Maltese cats,
An’ they’s two that’s white,—
An’ bofe of ’em’s deef—an’ that’s
’Cause their eyes ain’t right.—

Uncle say that Huxley say
Eyes of white Maltese—
When they don’t match thataway—
They’re deef as you please!

Girls, they like our white cats best,
’Cause they’re white as snow,
Yes, an’ look the stylishest—
But they’re deef, you know!

They don’t know their names, an’ don’t
Hear us when we call
“Come in, Nick an’ Finn!”—they won’t
Come fer us at all!

But our other cat, he knows
Mister Nick an’ Finn,—
Mowg’s his name,—an’ when he goes
Fer ’em, they come in!

Mowgli’s all his name—the same
Me an’ Muvver took
Like the Wolf-Child’s other name,
In “The Jungul Book.”

I bet Mowg’s the smartest cat
In the world!—He’s not
White, but mousy-plush, with that
Smoky gloss he’s got!

All’s got little bells to ring,
Round their neck; but none
Only Mowg knows anything—
He’s the only one!

I ist ’spect sometimes he hate
White cats’ stupid ways:—
He won’t hardly ‘sociate
With ’em, lots o’ days!

Mowg wants in where we air,—well,
He’ll ist take his paw
An’ ist ring an’ ring his bell
There till me er Ma

Er somebody lets him in
Nen an’ shuts the door.—
An’, when he wants out ag’in,
Nen he’ll ring some more.

Ort to hear our Katy tell!
She sleeps ‘way up-stairs;
An’ last night she hear Mowg’s bell
Ringin’ round somewheres...

Trees grows by her winder.—So,
She lean out an’ see
Mowg up there, ‘way out, you know,
In the clingstone-tree;—

An’-sir! he ist hint an’ ring,—
Till she ketch an’ plat
Them limbs;—nen he crawl an’ spring
In where Katy’s at!