“Give us noms! Give us noms!” the little cats say.
And what have you done to deserve noms today?
“We have pranced, and we’ve pounced, and with string we have played;
We defended the kitchen from a muridae raid!”
Such cats deserve plentiful noms, I would say.
“Give us noms! Give us noms!” the orange one pleads.
And what makes you think you will get noms from me?
“The father won’t do it, the brother’s lazy,
And the mother is gone, which leaves only thee!”
With that kind of logic, I’m forced to agree.
“Give us noms! Give us noms!” the gray boy-cat yowls.
I shan’t move any faster, despite all your howls.
“But I am so hungry, and there are no fowl;
I simply can’t help but to whine and to growl!”
I’m considering making a gray-cat fur towel.
“We have noms! We have noms!” my fur beastlings cry.
You sound as though you were both about to die.
“We are only felines; we cannot tell time.
Each moment we are denied food is a crime!”
You’ve been fed now, ungratefuls. Enough of this rhyme.