We have a wooly bully little tyrant

Who weighs in at about 27 pounds

And about ten past O’ dark thirty

You can expect the bed to rebound

Her calibration to sunrise is flawless

Just in case you wanted to sleep

With practiced cat like precision

You open your eyes to a sheep

Her left hook’s effective at waking

You from the very last dream of the night

Her right hook’s designed to disarm you

So you won’t bother to put up a fight

A lick on the face she has no disgrace

To get you to rousted up from the bed

Her primary morning function is to

Let you know that she has to be fed

She’s still pretty good about minding

When we tell her she just has to wait

As we get one last tiny cat nap before

She whines that her breakfast is late