By Other Animals
Habitually we offend
Against our country’s laws.
It works out better in the end
Than being good, because—
No home has a superior
Or cheerier interior
Than this old jail,
The which we hail
With constant loud applause,
For—
Be it ever so crowded
There’s no-o-o place like jail!
We raise our voices and shout,
And call the judge a good scout,
For he puts us in
And he keeps us in
And we’d rather be in than out.
Oh, we are the gay young rats
Who laugh at the barnyard prigs;
We can lick our weight in cats,
And double our weight in pigs.
We live wherever we like,
We do whatever we please;
An enemy’s threat can strike
No fear to such hearts as these.
When the pig detective squeals,
When cats lash furious tails,
Our laughter comes in peals,
And our laughter comes in gales.
So, cats and pigs and men,
If you want to avoid a fuss,
Stay safely in house and pen
And don’t interfere with us.
We’ve done as we always did,
We do as we’ve always done,
Though cats and pigs forbid,
For we take orders from none.
Freddy, the sleuth,
He busted a tooth,
He’s a silly old bonehead, and that is the truth.
Freddy the pig,
He talks very big,
But all that he’s good for’s to guzzle and swig.
Freddy the fat,
He’s never learned that
It takes forty-nine pigs to equal one rat.
Freddy the snoop,
The silly old droop,
We’ll cut him in pieces and boil him for soup!
Freddy the sneak,
We’ll catch him next week,
And after we’ve caught him, oh boy, how he’ll squeak!
Some people talk in a telephone
And some people talk in a hall;
Some people talk in a whisper,
And some people talk in a drawl;
And some people talk-and-talk-and-talk-and-talk-and-talk
And never say anything at all.
I love my pipe
And my tobaccy;
I love you,
I do, by cracky!
I can’t write pretty
For I ain’t a poet,
But I love you,
And don’t I know it!
If you ditched me
I sure would pine,
So I hope you’ll be
My valentine!