So, we’ll go no more a howling
At the stars or at the moon,
Though the cats are still out prowling,
And the night be bright as noon,
For the chase wears down the claws,
And the greatest acrobats
By time are given pause
In their pursuit of cats.
Though the night was made for growling,
Like all, I’m time’s buffoon,
And we’ll go no more a-howling
Under this or any moon.
