Baby Tommy

                                                      

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