The Song of the Hunting Cat

I haven't posted any songs for awhile. Here's a frivolous piece I came up with while raking last year's leaves out of the back yard this afternoon:

Oh, at our house we have a cat,
Picolay, picolay,
Who prowls around this way and that,
Hey-di-high-di-ho-di.

Picolay, picolay,
High-di-ho-di, picolay,
Picolay, picolay,
Hey-di-high-di-ho-di!

Out in the garden sat a frog,
Picolay, picolay,
Said, "Whither go ye, Mistress Mog?"
Hey-di-high-di-ho-di.

Picolay, picolay . . .

"Hunting go I, as is meet,
Picolay, picolay,
"That I may find my dinner sweet,"
Hey-di-high-di-ho-di.

Picolay, picolay . . .

"And what, pray, shall your quarry be?"
Picolay, picolay,
"The bird that flies unwarily."
Hey-di-high-di-ho-di.

Picolay, picolay . . .

"And what if Bird stays in her house?"
Picolay, picolay,
"Oh then, I’ll catch the tender mouse."
Hey-di-high-di-ho-di.

Picolay, picolay . . .

"And what if Mouse runs down his hole?"
Picolay, picolay,
"Oh then, I’ll hunt the whiskered vole."
Hey-di-high-di-ho-di.

Picolay, picolay . . .

"What if Vole gains his burrow snug?"
Picolay, picolay,
"Oh then, I’ll find a juicy bug."
Hey-di-high-di-ho-di.

Picolay, picolay . . .

"And what if Bug should hear your voice?"
Picolay, picolay,
"Oh then, a squirrel would be my choice."
Hey-di-high-di-ho-di.

Picolay, picolay . . .

"And what if Squirrel runs up a tree?"
Picolay, picolay,
"Oh then, Sir Frog, I’d fancy thee!"
Hey-di-high-di-ho-di.

Picolay, picolay . . .

When Mother let our cat inside,
Picolay, picolay,
"Frog legs for supper!" Kitty cried.
Hey-di-high-di-ho-di.

Picolay, picolay,
High-di-ho-di, picolay,
Picolay, picolay,
Hey-di-high-di-ho-di!

--24 March 2007 (copyright St. Blogwen's Well)

"Be Ye Holy . . . . "

Here I am, two-thirds of the way through Lent. With Christ's help I am keeping the Lenten abstinence vow I began on Ash Wednesday. But I don't feel particularly holy withal.

No, I don't expect to go floating six inches above the pavement, my head wreathed in a shining halo. That's not what I mean by holiness.

Holiness is doing what I know God wants me to do, whether I want to or not.

Holiness is keeping a charitable mind towards all I encounter, including the boss who takes my work for granted or the benighted soul who drives 35 mph in the 45 mph zone.

Holiness is using my time wisely, instead of mindlessly surfing the Internet or rereading novels I've been through three times before.

Holiness is not swearing when it hits me I've left my reading glasses up in my 3rd floor study-- again.

Holiness is being cheerful at the office, even though lately I've had to put in an obscene amount of (uncompensated) overtime, I'm not getting enough sleep, and my boss takes my work for granted.

Holiness is looking out for what I can do for others, instead of grabbing for what they can do for me.

Holiness is knowing I can't manage any of the above without Jesus Christ working in me and through me.

Holiness is the constant awareness of Jesus Christ working in me and through me.

Holiness is enjoying the constant awareness of Jesus Christ working in me and through me.

(Which, I suppose, would result in the sensation of floating along six inches above the pavement . . . )

And this holiness is just what I don't have!

But that's the good of Lent, isn't it? That it makes us face what a bad job we make of things when we're left to ourselves, and how we always, everywhere, at every time have to keep turning and turning and turning to face that stark, judgmental, life-giving Cross.