University of Virginia Library

The Cat and an old Rat.

I've heard, and if it be a Lie,
You have it e'en as cheap as I;
That a huge Cat of mighty Name,
A second Rodilard for Fame,
The Alexander of the Cats;
An Attila, a scourge to Rats,
Had brought such horrid devastation,
And Mischief on the latter Nation;
'Twas thought he would depopulate
The World, and swallow every Rat.
The long Tailed Gentry, far and near,
Are all possess'd with so much fear,
That there's not one in six Miles round,
That dares to venture above ground;
Their bloody minded Enemy
Is sorry, that they're grown so shy.
In vain he watch'd, and lurk'd about,
The De'l a bit as one came out.
Says he, the Scoundrels are alive,
I hear 'em stir, and must contrive
To draw 'em out; for, where they dwell,
I'm sure, they're uncomatable.
At that he gets upon a Shelf,
And to a String he hangs himself
By one Foot, dangling with his Head
Downward, as if he had been dead.
The Rats all thought, he had been taken
At stealing Cheese, or gnawing Bacon;
Perhaps he might have foul'd the Bed,
Murder'd a Bird; or, that he had
Committed any other Evil,
By instigation of the Devil,
Or his own more malicious Nature;
For which they'd hang'd the wicked Creature.
The Prisoners, who wanted Bread
Thank'd Heaven, and were very glad.
They show their Snouts, and now begin
To peep out and pop back again;
Till growing bold they leave their home,
And scamper up and down the Room.
Down comes the treacherous Malefactor,
Who rais'd to Life without a Doctor.
Fell with such rage about their House;
Each Blow kill'd either Rat or Mouse;
Some made Resistance, but in vain,
The Ground is cover'd with the slain,
Such Execution did his Claw,
But when the cunning Warrior saw,
The nimble ones go off in Sholes,
And get within their crooked Holes,
He call'd to 'em, for all your haste,
I know, you'll come to me at last.
This trick you never knew before,
But I can shew you hundred more.
He'd kill'd enough to live upon
Some few Days; but when that was gone,
He kept his Word, and wheedled 'em
With quite another Stratagem.
He jump'd into a Tub of Flower,
And there stood powd'ring half an hour,
'Till thinking he was dawbd enough,
He walks into an open trough
Where lying snug as white as Snow,
And roul'd up like a piece of Dough,
He waits the Starvlings coming to'm,
And now and then he pick'd up some.
But an old Rat, who full of Scars,
Had lost his Tail in former Wars;
Standing at th'Entrance of the Cave,
Call'd to our Cat. You, Mr. Knave,
Your Hanging or your Flower won't do,
I know your Tricks as well as you.
You was a Cat, and are so still:
Change to what form or shape you will:
Nay be a Log, I wont come nigh't.
Says th'other, Faith he's in the right.
And wisely knows, distrust to be
The Mother of Security.