THE BOSTON CATS

A Little Cat played on a silver flute,

And a Big Cat sat and listened;

The Little Cat's strains gave the Big Cat pains,

And a tear on his eyelid glistened.

Then the Big Cat said, “Oh, rest awhile;”

But the Little Cat said, “No, no;

For I get pay for the tunes I play;”

And the Big Cat answered, “Oh!

If you get pay for the tunes you play,

I'm afraid you'll play till you drop;

You'll spoil your health in the race for wealth,

So I'll give you more to stop.”

Said the Little Cat, “Hush! you make me blush;

Your offer is unusually kind;

Though it's very, very hard to leave the back yard,

I'll accept if you do n't mind.”

So the Big Cat gave him a thousand pounds

And a silver brush and a comb,

And a country seat on Beacon Street,

Right under the State House dome.

And the Little Cat sits with other little kits,

And watches the bright sun rise;

And the voice of the flute is long since mute,

And the Big Cat dries his eyes.