Now, I’m going to try and tie up the loose ends in a little bit of poetry:
The table awaited six hungry guests,
The hostess had prepared her very best
To satisfy any epicure
Martha had made a soup she was sure
That flavored with rosemary and thyme
Would be sublime.
But then a guest she did not invite,
(How could the cat know he was impolite?)
Jumped on the table, giving them fright?
Was a connoisseur
Of delicious smells
(For that was her name)
With much shame
Was banished from the house
By the reluctant spouse,
And of the guests who did retreat
only one sat down to eat.
Old Mrs. Totten
Who by now had forgotten
The entire scene
Took seconds from the turreen
Sat and ate her meal alone
And wondered where
everyone else had gone.