From The Topeka State Journal, September 23, 1914. By Roy K. Moulton.
Once upon a midnight dreary, as I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While a short snooze I was snatching,
Suddenly there came a scratching, and ’twas on my chamber door.
“’Tis no visitor,” I muttered, “scratching at my chamber door.
Just the cat and nothing more.”
I knew what the cat expected, and I knew I was elected
So I grabbed the noisy feline to perform my nightly chore.
Down the cold stairway I hurried while the chilly breezelets scurried
Round my shins and then I let him safely out the kitchen door.
I had put him out so often that it really made me sore,
Simply that and nothing more.
Back to my hall room I ambled and into the bed I scrambled,
When I heard a fearful wailing that I’d often heard before.
’Twas the same old caterwauling and the same old feline calling,
As he vainly tried to get in at the self-same kitchen door.
Then I hastened down the stairway and was chilled through to the core,
Just to let him in once more.