| Cats sleep fat and walk thin. |
Cats, when they sleep, slump; When they walk, pull in--
And where the plump's been, there's skin.
Cats walk thin.
Cats wait in a lump. Jump in a streak.
Cats, when they jump, are sleek
As a grape slipping its skin--They have technique.
Oh, cats don't creak. They sneak.
Cats sleep fat.
They spread comfort beneath them Like a good mat,
As if they picked the place And then sat.
You walk around one As if he were the City Hall after that.
| If male, A cat is apt to sing upon a major scale: |
This concert is for everybody, this Is wholesale.
For a baton, he wields a tail.
(He is also found, When happy, to resound
With an enclosed and private sound.)
A cat condenses.
He pulls in his tail to go under bridges,
And himself to go under fences. Cats fit in any size box or kit;
And if a large pumpkin grew under one, He could arch over it.
| When everyone else is just ready to go out,|
The cat is just ready to come in.
He's not where he's been.
Cats sleep fat and walk thin.