Nelly's Lament for the Pirnhouse Cat

Oh! fare-ye-weel my bonnie cat,
Nae mair I'll smooth yer skin sae black.
Mony a time I stroked yer back,
Puir wee craiter;
Ye've gane yer last lang sleep tae tak'.
The Elevator

Has sent ye aff tae your lang hame,
Whaur hunger ne'er will jag yer wame,
Whaur ye shall ne'er put in a claim
For meal or milk;
Yer in the " pond," free frae a' blame,
Boiled like a whelk.

Puir hapless beast, what was't that took
Ye hunting into yon dark nook?
Whaur " Death" sat cooring wi' his hook
Tae nip yer neck.
I'll think upon yer deein' look
Wi' sad respect.

My very brain ran roon about
When I saw Archie tak' ye oot,
Wi' scalped pow and bluidy snoot.
Heigh, when I think,
A stane tied roon yer neck, nae doot
Tae gar ye sink.

Jist yesterday, my bonnie beast,
I held ye close unto my breast;
When, ye as proud as ony priest,
Did cock yer lug;
Syne aff ye ran tae get a feast
Frae yer milk mug.

But noo nae mair in oor pirnhouse
Ye'll hunt the rats, nor catch a moose,
Nor on the counter sit fu' douse,
And mew and yell,
And shoot yer humph sae prude and spruce
At rhyming Nell.

Your race upon the earth was ran,
Puir puss, ere it was weel began;
Ye've gane whaur beastie, boy, and man
Are doomed tae go.
Omnipotence in His vast plan
Ordained it so.

There's nane has deign'd tae mourn ye here,
Unless mysel' wi' grief sincere;
Though but a cat I'll still revere
Thy worth wi' pity,
And ower yer memory drap a tear,
Puir we cheetie.
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