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!