The
Critic
did not like the food,
But found it stale and flabby;
Yet strange to say, no other chewed
So hard the hapless Tabby.
It had a poet of its own,
But undertook to gild her-
A thing, as well they might have known,
That ultimately killed her.
And such had been poor Tabby's fate
But that some power divine
Let it by underestimate
To take one life for nine.