As I roved on outside one evening so fair,
To pounce on small crickets and chase birds in the air,
I heard an old Tom cat a-singing a song,
Lying in catnips that's mine before long.
[ch]
Wrap me up in a fresh bed of catnip.
No more in my house I'll be seen.
Just tell me old litter mates
It smells good and tastes great,
And I'll see ye someday on Catnipping Green.
Now Catnipping Green is a place I've heard tell,
Where kitty cats go when their nine lives fail,
Where the sun beam is warm and the bird wings are frayed,
And there's nary a p**y cat around that's been spayed.
When your locked up inside, and your humans leave too,
There's mices that scuttle, and laces on shoes.
There's bubbles of catnip that blow 'round freely.
And the fawcets have milk that turn on when you sing.
Where there's plenty to climb and no vets to impale,
And you pounce on a fish bowl with a flick of your tail,
Where you lie at your leisure and clean your fur too,
Though I guess that's no different than you normally do.
Now I don't want a human to dote over me.
Well maybe a neck rub, then I'll leave for the green.
And other cats will sniff the catnip on my paws,
Then meow as they pounce on me while singing this song.