The Cat’s Tale
(A Ballad of Bozoemia)

She toted tea, so the story goes,
In “The Apple Green Kitty” inn.
The one by the Mews - and pink as a rose
She purred the tea for him.

For him - of an afternoon he’d nap
At the “Cat” and his nip would take
As he spoke out his heart, but never a rap
Did she care-though his heart might break.

A poor Bozoemia scribbler, he
But his love, it was wealth enow.
The pride of the Cat’s Arts tea ball, she
And a bit of the Cat’s meow.

But he couldn’t wait on the fence for ay-
Demanded her answer to know.
But all he could get the maid to say
Was “Lemon or Sugar, bo?”

And he tore his hair, and he cried out wild,
“The “Cat’ shall see me no more,
For I’ll go to the dogs!”
But she cruelly smiled,
“Aw, don’t, for my dogs are sore.”

But he did. And the blame must all be hers
When the Final Account comes up:
He went to the dogs -
let her mews as she purrs-
He’s now at the “Lavender Pup.”

George A Paravicini ––Judge Magazine, 1927
(The Apple Green Kitty and the Lavender Pup were Village tea rooms.)

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