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Old Deuteronomy’s lived a long time;He’s a Cat who has lived many lives in succession.He was famous in proverb and famous in rhymeA long while before Queen Victoria’s accession.Old Deuteronomy’s buried nine wivesAnd more – I am tempted to say, ninety-nine;And his numerous progeny prospers and thrivesAnd the village is proud of him in his decline.At the sight of that placid and bland physiognomy,When he sits in the sun on the vicarage wall,The Oldest Inhabitant croaks: “Well, of all … Things … Can it be … really! … No! … Yes! … Ho! hi!Oh, my eye!My mind may be wandering, but I confess I believe it is Old Deuteronomy!”Old Deuteronomy sits in the street,He sits in the High Street on market day;The bullocks may bellow, the sheep they may bleat,But the dogs and the herdsman will turn them away.The cars and the lorries run over the kerb,And the villagers put up a notice: ROAD CLOSED —So that nothing untoward may chance to disturbDeuteronomy’s rest when he feels so disposedOr when he’s engaged in domestic economy:And the Oldest Inhabitant croaks: “Well of all …Things … Can it be … really! … No! … Yes! …Ho! hi!Oh, my eye!My sight’s unreliable, but I can guessThat the cause of the trouble is Old Deuteronomy!
