Old
Deuteronomy's
lived
a
long
time;
He's
a
Cat
who
has
lived
many
lives
in
succession.
He
was
famous
in
proverb
and
famous
in
rhyme
A
long
while
before
Queen
Victoria's
accession.
Old
Deuteronomy's
buried
nine
wives
And
more—I
am
tempted
to
say,
ninety-nine;
And
his
numerous
progeny
prospers
and
thrives
And
the
village
is
proud
of
him
in
his
decline.
At
the
sight
of
that
placid
and
bland
physiognomy,
When
he
sits
in
the
sun
on
the
vicarage
wall,
The
Oldest
Inhabitant
croaks:
"Well,
of
all
.
.
.
Things.
.
.
Can
it
be
.
.
.
really!
.
.
.
No!.
.
.
Yes!.
.
.
Ho!
hi!
Oh,
my
eye!
My
mind
may
be
wandering,
but
I
confess
I
believe
it
is
Old
Deuteronomy!"
Old
Deuteronomy
sits
in
the
street,
He
sits
in
the
High
Street
on
market
day;
The
bullocks
may
bellow,
the
sheep
they
may
bleat,
But
the
dogs
and
the
herdsmen
will
turn
them
away.
The
cars
and
the
lorries
run
over
the
kerb,
And
the
villagers
put
up
a
notice:
ROAD
CLOSED—
So
that
nothing
untoward
may
chance
to
distrub
Deuteronomy's
rest
when
he
feels
so
disposed
Or
when
he's
engaged
in
domestic
economy:
And
the
Oldest
Inhabitant
croaks:
"Well,
of
all
.
.
.
Things.
.
.
Can
it
be
.
.
.
really!
.
.
.
No!.
.
.
Yes!.
.
.
Ho!
hi!
Oh,
my
eye!
My
sight's
unreliable,
but
I
can
guess
That
the
cause
of
the
trouble
is
Old
Deuteronomy!"
Old
Deuteronomy
lies
on
the
floor
Of
the
Fox
and
French
Horn
for
his
afternoon
sleep;
And
when
the
men
say:
"There's
just
time
for
one
more,"
Then
the
landlady
from
her
back
parlour
will
peep
And
say:
"New
then,
out
you
go,
by
the
back
door,
For
Old
Deuteronomy
mustn't
be
woken—
I'll
have
the
police
if
there's
any
uproar"—
And
out
they
all
shuffle,
without
a
word
spoken.
The
digestive
repose
of
that
feline's
gastronomy
Must
never
be
broken,
whatever
befall:
And
the
Oldest
Inhabitant
croaks:
"Well,
of
all
.
.
.
Things.
.
.
Can
it
be
.
.
.
really!
.
.
.
No!.
.
.
Yes!.
.
.
Ho!
hi!
Oh,
my
eye!
My
legs
may
be
tottery,
I
must
go
slow
And
be
careful
of
Old
Deuteronomy!"
Of
the
awefull
battle
of
the
Pekes
and
the
Pollicles:
together
with
some
account
of
the
participation
of
the
Pugs
and
the
Poms,
and
the
intervention
of
the
Great
Rumpuscat
The
Pekes
and
the
Pollicles,
everyone
knows,
Are
proud
and
implacable
passionate
foes;
It
is
always
the
same,
wherever
one
goes.
And
the
Pugs
and
the
Poms,
although
most
people
say
That
they
do
not
like
fighting,
yet
once
in
a
way,
They
will
now
and
again
join
in
to
the
fray
And
they
Bark
bark
bark
bark
Bark
bark
BARK
BARK
Until
you
can
hear
them
all
over
the
Park.
Now
on
the
occasion
of
which
I
shall
speak
Almost
nothing
had
happened
for
nearly
a
week
(And
that's
a
long
time
for
a
Pol
or
a
Peke).
The
big
Police
Dog
was
away
from
his
beat—
I
don't
know
the
reason,
but
most
people
think
He'd
slipped
into
the
Wellington
Arms
for
a
drink—
And
no
one
at
all
was
about
on
the
street
When
a
Peke
and
a
Pollicle
happened
to
meet.
They
did
not
advance,
or
exactly
retreat,
But
they
glared
at
each
other,
and
scraped
their
hind
feet,
And
they
started
to
Bark
bark
bark
bark
Bark
bark
BARK
BARK
Until
you
can
hear
them
all
over
the
Park.
Now
the
Peke,
although
people
may
say
what
they
please,
Is
no
British
Dog,
but
a
Heathen
Chinese.
And
so
all
the
Pekes,
when
they
heard
the
uproar,
Some
came
to
the
window,
some
came
to
the
door;
There
were
surely
a
dozen,
more
likely
a
score.
And
together
they
started
to
grumble
and
wheeze
In
their
huffery-snuffery
Heathen
Chinese.
But
a
terrible
din
is
what
Pollicles
like,
For
your
Pollicle
Dog
is
a
dour
Yorkshire
tyke,
And
his
braw
Scottish
cousins
are
snappers
and
biters,
And
every
dog-jack
of
them
notable
fighters;
And
so
they
stepped
out,
with
their
pipers
in
order,
Playing
When
the
Blue
Bonnets
Came
Over
the
Border.
Then
the
Pugs
and
the
Poms
held
no
longer
aloof,
But
some
from
the
balcony,
some
from
the
roof,
Joined
in
To
the
din
With
a
Bark
bark
bark
bark
Bark
bark
BARK
BARK
Until
you
can
hear
them
all
over
the
Park.
Now
when
these
bold
heroes
together
assembled,
That
traffic
all
stopped,
and
the
Underground
trembled,
And
some
of
the
neighbours
were
so
much
afraid
That
they
started
to
ring
up
the
Fire
Brigade.
When
suddenly,
up
from
a
small
basement
flat,
Why
who
should
stalk
out
but
the
GREAT
RUMPUSCAT.
His
eyes
were
like
fireballs
fearfully
blazing,
He
gave
a
great
yawn,
and
his
jaws
were
amazing;
And
when
he
looked
out
through
the
bars
of
the
area,
You
never
saw
anything
fiercer
or
hairier.
And
what
with
the
glare
of
his
eyes
and
his
yawning,
The
Pekes
and
the
Pollicles
quickly
took
warning.
He
looked
at
the
sky
and
he
gave
a
great
leap—
And
they
every
last
one
of
them
scattered
like
sheep.
And
when
the
Police
Dog
returned
to
his
beat,
There
wasn't
a
single
one
left
in
the
street.
