There was a Cameronian cat
Was hunting for a prey,
And in the house she catch'd a mouse
Upon the Sabbath-day.

The Whig, being offended
At such an act profane,
Laid by his book, the cat he took,
And bound her in a chain.

“Thou damn'd, thou cursed creature,
This deed so dark with thee,
Think'st thou to bring to hell below
My holy wife and me?

Assure thyself that for the deed
Thou blood for blood shalt pay,
For killing of the Lord's own mouse
Upon the Sabbath-day.”

The presbyter laid by the book,
And earnestly he pray'd
That the great sin the cat had done
Might not on him be laid.

And straight to execution
Poor baudrons she was drawn,
And high hang'd up upon a tree -
Mess John sung a psalm.

And when the work was ended,
They thought the cat near dead;
She gave a paw, and then a mew,
And stretched out her head.

“Thy name”, said he, “shall certainly
A beacon still remain,
A terror unto evil ones
For evermore, Amen.”