William L. Cassidy   	

Beneath the towering evergreen
the mighty Moose doth stand...
sweat glistens from his noble brow
and falls upon the land...

and what, you ask, compels the Moose
to snort and sweat like that?
Yea, verily for the Moose hath toiled
at the squashing of many cats!

No meow could stop his thundering hooves,
No simpering whine or purr...
No feline guile could prevent the Moose
from trodding upon cat fur...

Oh, he squashed them flat
and he squashed them lean
and he squashed them all in a row
in morning, noon, and midnight
he squashed them to and fro!

Until, upon the village green
all citizens did spy
at dawn's first light
the winsome sight
of newly squashed cat pie.

How can we thank the Moose, you ask?
What tribute can we raise?
For service to our cohort...
For the wonder of our age?
To the task we are not equal,
for the Moose's gifts are profound...
each day he toils for our pleasure
smashing worthless cats to the ground.