There was an old woman, who lived in town,
She had seven cats, all of whom wore frowns,
When crimson butterflies left, each sundown,
Off to their sweet dreams in the thistledown.

Much more fun to run in sun and green grass,
Than going to bed, with pearl moon, at last;
But, in puss dreams, butterflies made a splash,
They were all colors flying, while cats dashed!