Good pastry is vended
In Cite Fadette,—
Madame Pons constructs splendid
Brioche and galette!
Monsieur Pons is so fat that
He's laid on the shelf,—
Madame Pons had a cat that
Was fat as herself.
Long hair—soft as satin,—
A musical purr—
'Gainst the window she'd flatten
Her delicate fur.
Once I drove Lou to see what
Our neighbours were at,
When, in rapture, cried she, "What
An exquisite cat!
"What whiskers! She's purring
All over. A gale
Of contentment is stirring
Her feathery tail.
"Monsieur Pons, will you sell her?"—
"Ma femme est sortie,
Your offer I'll tell her,
But—will she?" says he.
Yet Pons was persuaded
To part with the prize!
(Our bargain was aided,
My Lou, by your eyes!)
From his legitime save him—
My fate I prefer!
For I warrant she gave him
Un mauvais quart d'heure.
I'm giving a pleasant
Grimalkin to Lou,
—Ah, Puss, what a present
I'm giving to you!