Macavity
I leap the vine and run the wall,
Behind the steeple reaching tall,
As men in coats in echoes call,
A troop to goad and gall!
I fly upon the moonlit air,
A felon racing debonair,
The moon’s unmoving, pallid stare,
Upon my ruffled hair.
I sense the chimneys coughing smoke,
The hearths the lonely workers stoke,
The odours from the village folk,
The smoky haze a cloak.
I dash the dingle, rove the fen,
And every night begin again,
A comet o’er the shadowed glen,
As dainty as the wren.
I leave pursuers in the lurch!
Evading them as soft I perch,
Upon the wall, as blaggarts search,
Sequestered by the church…
I lick my paws, salute the moon,
My purring such a happy tune,
The crystal air a bonny boon.
The moths in dazzled swoon.
My pricking whiskers tell me now,
The men have found me out somehow,
Disgruntlement upon my brow,
I blurt a stricken meow!
And race again into the black,
The torches swirling at my back,
Pursuers in aggressive tack,
I’ll dodge their wry attack!
On and on, into the mist,
As racing men behind persist,
Into the night, I shall insist!
Until the cries desist…
