Monument

Not great poetry, but nulla dies sine linea, you know.

I sing a song of the cats of God,
All of the Tiger's tribe,
Who mewed and purred and ate and fought
More than I may describe:
And one was a Jeoffry, and one was a Hodge,
And one cat lived in the Master's Lodge,
Plain or striped, with spots or a splodge,
Your cat is the boss of you.

They fought their friends in eternal fight
And worshipped in their way:
They turned nine times in the morning light
For this is how cats pray;
And one was a Rothko, and one was O'Keeffe,
And one Cassatt with her fearful teeth,
And of all these cats it remains my belief
Your cat is the boss of you.

(in case you don't know the hymn)