more kitten pals

In honor of Thelma and Catelina (pictured above) and Louise and Cleocatra (not pictured now but later): this little ditty to the tune of the Tallis Canon

Which bird this is I think I know
It warbles in the bush below
It will not see me lurking here
Nor feint away a fatal blow

This fatal blow that might come soon
Is naught of kitten anger born
But more in keeping with my grasp
Of when to eat and when to mourn

I mourn this little helpless bird
Its motherless and plaintive cries
tug at my heart and give me pause
And with my paws a heavy sigh

This heavy sigh that fills my soul
Conforms to my ex'tential lot
In lieu of birds perhaps a vole
Will lapse into my cooking pot