Puss in Boots.

S a youth once was stroking a cat

She suddenly fell into chat,

To his wonder intense, and surprise,
For she never had spoken before,
Though they’re friends of a twelvemonth and more-—

Yea, since ever she opened her eyes.
‘You are mourning!’ Miss Pussy exclaimed ;
‘Let the cause of your sorrow be named :

In my great skill and prudence confide ;
For of wisdom and cunning, folks say,
They are better than wealth any day.

So now let my gumption be tried.’
‘My father to Tom gives the mill,
And the farm leaves to Henry by will ;

Whilst to me he has only left you.
I have but a few pounds of my own,
And am puzzled, I really must own ;

For I scarcely can think what to do.’