A Persian kitty, perfumed and fair,
Strayed out through the kitchen door for air.
When a Tom Cat, lean and little and strong,
And dirty and yellow came along.
He sniffed at the perfumed Persian Cat,
As she strutted about with much eclat.
And thinking a bit of time to pass,
He whispered, "Kiddo, you sure have class."
"That's fitting and proper," was her reply,
As she arched her whiskers over her eye.
"I'm ribboned; I sleep on a pillow of silk,
And daily they bathe me in certified milk."
Yet we're never contented with what we've got,
I try to be happy, but happy I'm not.
And I should be joyful, I should indeed,
For I certainly am highly pedigreed."
"Cheer up," said the Tom Cat, with a smile,
"And trust your new found friend a while.
You need not escape from your back yard fence,
My dear, all you need is experience."
New joys of life be them unfurled,
As he told her his tales of the outside world.
Suggesting, at last, with a luring laugh,
A trip for two down the "Primrose Path."
The morning after the night before,
The cat came back at the hour of four.
The look in her innocent eyes had went,
But the smile on her face was the smile of content.
And in after days when children came,
To this Persian kitty of pedigreed fame,
They weren't Persian-they were black and tan,
And she told them their Pa was a traveling man.