The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Hear our prayer Lord, for all animals,

May they be well-fed and well-trained and happy;

Protect them from hunger and fear and suffering;

And, we pray, protect specially, dear Lord,

The little cat who is the companion of our home,

Keep her safe as she goes abroad,

And bring her back to comfort us.



Anonymous

"Honest as the Cat when the meat's out of reach." - Old English saying



"A cat's eyes are windows enabling us to see into another world." - Irish Legend



"Cat's motto: No matter what you've done wrong, always try to make it look like the dog did it." - Unknown



"When the cat's away, the mice will play" - Folk Saying



The cat is mighty dignified until the dog comes by. - Southern Folk Saying



Who would believe such pleasure from a wee ball o' fur?" - Irish Saying



"A cat is a lion in a jungle of small bushes." - Indian Saying



Touch not a Cat but a glove.



What can you have of a Cat but her skin?

Everything I know I learned from my cat: When you're hungry, eat. When you're tired, nap in a sunbeam. When you go to the vet's, pee on your owner. - Gary Smith



I like pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals. - Winston Churchill



When I play with my cat, how do I know that she is not passing time with me rather than I with her? - Montaigne

There's a whisper down the line at 11:39

When the Night Mail's ready to depart,

Saying 'Skimble where is Skimble has he gone to hunt the thimble?

We must find him or the train can't start.'

All the guards and all the porters and the stationmaster's daughters

They are searching high and low,

Saying 'Skimble where is Skimble for unless he's very nimble

Then the Night Mail just can't go.'

At 11:42 then the signal's nearly due

And the passengers are frantic to a man -

Then Skimble will appear and he'll saunter to the rear:

He's been busy in the luggage van!

He gives one flash of his glass-green eyes

And the signal goes 'All Clear!'

And we're off at last for the northern part

Of the Northern Hemisphere!



You may say that by and large it is Skimble who's in charge

Of the Sleeping Car Express.

From the driver and the guards to the bagmen playing cards

He will supervise them all, more or less.

Down the corridor he paces and examines all the faces

Of the travellers in the First and in the Third;

He establishes control by a regular patrol

And he'd know at once if anything occurred.

He will watch you without winking and he sees what you are thinking

And it's certain that he doesn't approve

Of hilarity and riot, so the folk are very quiet

When Skimble is about and on them ove.

You can play no pranks with Skimbleshanks!

He's a Cat that cannot be ignored;

So nothing goes wrong on the Northern Mail

When Skimbleshanks is aboard.



Oh it's very pleasant when you have found your little den

With your name written up on the door.

And the berth is very neat with a newly folded sheet

And there's not a speck of dust on the floor.

There is every sort of light - you can make it dark or bright;

There's a button that you turn to make a breeze.

There's a funny little basin you're supposed to wash your face in

And a crank to shut the window if you sneeze.

Then the guard looks in politely and will ask you very brightly

'Do you like your morning tea weak or strong?'

But Skimble's just behind him and was ready to remind him,

For Skimble won't let anything go wrong.

And when you creep into your cosy berth

And pull up the counterpane,

You are bound to admit that it's very nice

To know that you won't be bothered by mice -

You can leave all that to the Railway Cat,

The Cat of the Railway Train!



In the middle of the night he is always fresh and bright;

Every now and then he has a cup of tea

With perhaps a drop of Scotch while he's keeping on the watch,

Only stopping here and there to catch a flea.

You were fast asleep at Crewe and so you never knew

That he was walking up and down the station;

You were sleeping all the while he was busy at Carlisle,

Where he greets the stationmaster with elation.

But you saw him at Dumfries, where he summons the police

If there's anything they ought to know about:

When you get to Gallowgate there you do not have to wait -

For Skimbleshanks will help you to get out!

He gives you a wave of his long brown tail

Which says: 'I'll see you again!

You'll meet without fail on the Midnight Mail

The Cat of the Railway Train.'



End.

Twas deep; so deep of night,

When I saw what I had seen -

So truly deep of night,

When I went where I had been,

And really deep of night,

When I heard what I had heard:

Perhaps a fox or badger,

Or a sort of night-time bird.



‘Twas late that night of nights,

When something there was there -

So very late that night of nights,

Where that thing was where -

'Twas deep of night of nights,

When it ran to where it ran:

Perhaps a stoat or Billy goat,

Or ghostly little man.



‘Twas in the night of night of nights,

When something scary caused a scare -

So late of night of night of nights,

When something hairy raised my hair -

The deep of night of night of nights…

So don’t you wonder what it was?

Well I never really truly saw it –

Why? Because because!



‘Twas in the night of night of night of nights

Oh I've had enough!

Night night.

Sleep, sleep, sleep

It’s magnificent and nice,

With dreams beyond wonder,

Sleep! sleep! sleep!



Sleep, sleep, sleep

Eyes tightly closed,

A little smile on you r cheeks,

Feeling the warm sensations

Of the pure and precious sleep,

Sleep! sleep! sleep!



Sleep, sleep, sleep

Forgetting insane things of the mixed world outside

Relax my little one, feel the gentle breeze,

Do not worry about tomorrow, do not weep,

Wake up fresh in the morn with a recuperated mind,

Fresh and blessed with a wonderful sleep,

SLEEP, SLEEP, SLEEP!

IV

I. M.

R. T. Hamilton Bruce

(1846-1899)



Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.



In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried loud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.



Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the meance of the years

Finds, and shall find, me un afraid.



It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishment the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.



End.

Slowly, silently, now the moon

Walks the night in her silver shoon;

This way, and that, she peers, and sees

Silver fruit upon silver trees;

One by one the casements catch

Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;

Couched in his kennel, like a log,

With paws of silver sleeps the dog;

From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep

Of doves in a silver-feathered sleep;

A harvest mouse goes scampering by,

With silver claws, and silver eye;

And moveless fish in the water gleam,

By silver reeds in a silver stream.



End.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveller, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;



Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Through as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,



And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.



I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -

I took the one less travelled by,

And that has made all the difference.



End.

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;



How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;



And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.



End.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogroves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.



'Beware the Jabberwocky, my son!

The jaws thatbite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

The frumious Bandersnatch!



He took his vorpal sword in hand:

Long time the manxome foe he sought -

So rested he by the Tumtum tree,

And stood awhile in thought.



And as in uffish thought he stood,

The Jabberwocky, with eyes of flame,

Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

And burbled as it came!



One, two! One, two! And through and through

The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

He went galumphing back.



'And thou hast slain the Jabberwocky?

Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'

He chortled in his joy.



'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogroves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.



End.

Do not stand at my grave and weep;

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the mornings hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there. I did not die.



End.



(NOTE:It doesnt say who wrote this poem)