Find The Favorite

A poem by James Whitcomb Riley

Our three cats is Maltese cats,
An' they's two that's white, -
An' bofe of 'em's deef - an' that's
'Cause their eyes ain't right. -

Uncle say that Huxley say
Eyes of white Maltese -
When they don't match thataway -
They're deef as you please!

Girls, they like our white cats best,
'Cause they're white as snow,
Yes, an' look the stylishest -
But they're deef, you know!

They don't know their names, an' don't
Hear us when we call
"Come in, Nick an' Finn!" - they won't
Come fer us at all!

But our other cat, he knows
Mister Nick an' Finn, -
Mowg's his name, - an' when he goes
Fer 'em, they come in!

Mowgli's all his name - the same
Me an' Muvver took
Like the Wolf-Child's other name,
In "The Jungul Book."

I bet Mowg's the smartest cat
In the world! - He's not
White, but mousy-plush, with that
Smoky gloss he's got!

All's got little bells to ring,
Round their neck; but none
Only Mowg knows anything -
He's the only one!

I ist 'spect sometimes he hate
White cats' stupid ways: -
He won't hardly 'sociate
With 'em, lots o' days!

Mowg wants in where we air, - well,
He'll ist take his paw
An' ist ring an' ring his bell
There till me er Ma

Er somebody lets him in
Nen an' shuts the door. -
An', when he wants out ag'in,
Nen he'll ring some more.

Ort to hear our Katy tell!
She sleeps 'way up-stairs;
An' last night she hear Mowg's bell
Ringin' round somewheres...

Trees grows by her winder. - So,
She lean out an' see
Mowg up there, 'way out, you know,
In the clingstone-tree; -

An'-sir! he ist hint an' ring, -
Till she ketch an' plat
Them limbs; - nen he crawl an' spring
In where Katy's at!

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