PUSSICAT, wussicat, with a white foot, When is your wedding and I'll come to it. The beer's to brew, and the bread's to bake, Pussicat, wussicat, don't be too late. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VARIATIONS: 12 by CONRAD AIKEN SPRING NOTES FROM ROBIN HILL by HAYDEN CARRUTH ON THE SALE OF MY FARM by ROBERT FROST DEAD LEAVES by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO W.E.B. DUBOIS - SCHOLAR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |