'tis quite true that
I'm a robotic cat
But as to the nine
They are not mine
Not even one or two
As a real cat would do
For cats mostly nap
And lay in one's lap
Waking up long enough
Only to eat strange stuff
Like cream, liver, and fish
Licking, clean their dish
Then they might chase a mouse
All around the house
Or themselves be chased around
By some ugly hound
But I can, alas, never
No matter how clever
Eat, sleep, nor chase
Though I've a cat's face
So the lives are not mine
Not any of the nine
They belong to a feline
Of the non-robotic kind
