Dear kitten, do lie still, I say,
for much I want you to be quiet,
Instead of scampering away,
And always making such a riot.
There, only see, you've torn my frock,
And poor mamma must put a patch in;
I'll give you a right earnest knock,
To cure you of this trick of scratching.
Nay, do not scold your little cat,
She does not know what 'tis you're saying:
And ev'ry time you give a pat,
She thinks you mean it all for playing.
But if your pussy understood
The lesson that you meant to teach her,
And did not choose to be so good,
She'd be, indeed, a naughty creature.
-- from Rhymes for the Nursery, by the authors of Original Poems. 16th ed. London: Printed for Harvey and Darton, Gracechurch-street, 1824.