I’ve
got a nice black Tommy cat,
His fur is smooth and sleek;
His
coat feels like a pillow when
I put him on my cheek.
He
doesn’t scratch or run away,
Or hide himself from me,
And
minds me just like any child –
He’s good as he can be,
I
wheel him in my go cart up
And down the great highway,
And
people stop and ask me “how
My baby is today?”
My
pa says he’ll not mind so well
When he grows up he’s ‘fraid;
I
don’t know what to do, I ‘spose
I’ll have to hire a maid.
July
25, 1904
Irene Cone on right
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