What A Beautiful Pussy You Are

Well, per usual, over at Gonzo Engaged, the blog that answers the question "Can you ever get enough of the teachings of Chris Locke?!" with an emphatic "Oh, no, never!" they have been beating me to the punch. Marek my Polish Alpha Male Love Slave has reproduced my favorite Edward Lear poem, The Owl And The Pussycat, with a few variations.

What Marek doesn't know is that as a young girl, I was actually given a gift of a 3 foot long wooden pea-green boat, complete with stuffed animal Owl and Pussycat, a little jar of honey tucked into the bow, a little golden sack of chocolate money stowed away in the stern, not to mention a pea-green book of Edward Lear poems. This is a favorite poem of mine, but what with the language now sounding nearly pornographic, you barely hear it anymore. Another book that's fallen by the wayside since modern slang has rendered it slightly off-color is the classic, "Our Hearts Were Young and Gay" to which you can't help saying, "Oh, yeah?!" I reproduce the poem unadulterated below. Any Alpha Male who's in the mood to dine "on mince and slices of quince" which we can eat "with a runcible spoon" should drop me a note, beats dinner at Legal Seafoods any time. I'm even willing to recite the poem which I know by heart, while we dance hand in hand by the edge of the sand, but so as not to disappoint, I warn you up front I do not own a small guitar, but then again, what self-respecting Alpha Male can't get his hands on a small guitar to bring to the party? I leave that to him.

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat:
They took some honey,
and plenty of money
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.

The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
"O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!"
Contemporary Illustrator: Donna L. Derstine

Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl,
How charmingly sweet you sing!
Oh! let us be married;
too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?"
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the bong-tree grows;
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood,
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.

"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;

And hand in hand on the edge of the sand
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.