Poetry-in-Motion 7

She Walks In Booties
By George Gordon, Lord Byron's Cat.

She walks in booties, like a sprite
With pixie feet and fairy toes;
Her paws on ice will ne'er alight
Nor feel the chill of frigid snows;
And all the rays of winter's light
Shine on her collar's satin bows.

And from her soft enchanted fur
Exudes the scent of sweet shampoo
And precious oils distilled from myrrh
That give her fur it's magic hue:
I long to hear her charming purr,
And share the music of her mew.

But as I watch her take the air,
My spellbound vision starts to fade;
I feel at once a dark despair;
My feline heart is sore dismay'd;
For not content to make her fair,
Her doting owners had her spay'd!