But not as long as the original. ;o)

The Rime of the Ancient Islander

PART I
An ancient Islander meeteth three kittens working on the Mouser, and
detaineth one.

It is an ancient Islander,
And he stoppeth one of three.
`By thy black beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me ?

The Mouser’s gangway waits for me,
And I am late for chores;
The kits are met, the rigging’s set,
May’st hear the Cap’n roars.’

He holds him with his skinny paw,
`There was a map,' quoth he.
`Hold off ! unpaw me, black-beard loon !'
Eftsoons his paw dropt he.

The Kitten-Cat is spell-bound by the eye of the old seafaring cat, and
constrained to hear his tail.

He holds him with his glittering eye--
The Kitten-Cat stood still,
And listens like a three years' child :
The Islander hath his will.

The Kitten-Cat sat on a stone :
He cannot choose but hear ;
And thus spake on that ancient cat,
The bright-eyed Islander.

`The map was charred, the paper seared,
Barely could I read
A cross was there, below the hill,
Below the lighthouse top.

The Islander tells how he sent the map to the Mothership for restoration.

A note I sent, up in the sky,
To contact experts there,
They took the map, and on the night,
Sent it back down to here.

They’d treated it, removed the burns,
And made it clear to tell- - ‘
The Kitten-Cat here beat his breast,
For he heard the loud ship’s bell.

The Kitten-Cat heareth the ship’s bell ; but the Islander continueth his
tale.

The Cap’n hath paced onto the bridge,
Red as a beet is he ;
Whiskers bristling, ears a-twitching,
Looking mighty fierce.

The Kitten-Cat he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear ;
And thus spake on that ancient cat,
The bright-eyed Islander.

The map is returned to Frank from the Mothership.

`And now the CYBER-CAT came, and he
Was tyrannous and strong :
He struck with his o'ertaking claws,
And chased me south along.

With sloping tail and dipping brow,
As who pursued with yell and blow
Still treads the shadow of his foe,
And forward bends his head,
This cat ran fast, loud roared that cat,
Then southward aye I fled.
And now there came both mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cold :
And ice, ear-high, came floating by,
As green as emerald.

The visit of the fearful cyber-cat from the Mothership.

And through the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen :
Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken--
The ice was all between.

The ice was here, the ice was there,
The ice was all around :
It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
Like noises in a swound !

Till a great sea-bird, called the Herring Gull (no Albatrosses on the
island), came through the snow-fog, and was received with great joy and
hospitality.

At length did cross an Herring Gull,
Thorough the fog it came ;
As if it had been a Feline soul,
I hailed it in Bast's name.

It ate the food it ne'er had eat,
And round and round it flew.
The cyber-cat made one great leap ;
The Herring Gull never knew.

And lo ! the Herring Gull proveth a delicious bird, as the cyber-cat
shareth his catch with Frank.

The cyber-cat did melt the ice ;
And set right down to chew,
He winked at me to let me see,
I was invited, too.

PART II

The cyber-cat now paused to groom ;
Then helped me wash my ears,
Then ‘pologized for all the ice,
And wiped away my tears.

‘This map you sent up in the sky,
Was old and hard to study,
But due to our technology,
It’s now all neat and tidy.’

The ancient Islander receives the Map back, but realises he shouldn’t
have eaten of the beautiful Herring Gull.

And I had done an hellish thing,
And it would work me woe :
For all averred, I had killed the bird
That made the treasure grow.

Ah wretch ! said they, the bird to slay,
That made the treasure grow !

Frank swears he didn’t kill the bird, he just ate a little bit of it.

‘Nor killed nor maim’d, I swore to them,
The cyber-cat didst kill the bird!
I’m innocent, a passer-by.’
But I could not be heard.
‘That’s right’, said Nikki, ‘he ne’er did,
Kill ought larger than a t*rd.’

Nikki saves Frank’s reputation, but the treasure can still not be found.

The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,
The furrow followed free ;
As two island cats set off to sail
Into that silent sea.

The boat is beleaguered by Gulls.

Down dropt the Gulls, their bombs dropt too,
‘Twas sad as sad could be ;
They dropt on us, their bombs dropt too,
Their revenge on li'l old me.

In spite of Gulls and bombs we fled,
Due South to open sea,
To find the treasure mark’d on the map,
With a cross so plain to see.

We reached the place and looked around,
The place, we felt, was right,
But crosses there were none to see,
And oh, here comes the night.

And the cats want to be home in their bed with their hoomin.

Water, water, every where,
And all the boards did shrink ;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.

The very deep did rot : O Bast !
That ever this should be !
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimy sea.

We headed back towards the shore,
Where waiting was our shack,
We’d rather be there in our bed,
With warm covers and good snack.

The cats discover they misread the Map. What they thought was water was,
in fact, land.

And Frank in dreams enlightened was,
That land was water, water land,
The cats had miss’d the signs of maps,
Thought sea was white and blue was sand.

The early morn’, the cats set off,
To find the place anew,
Where mice untold and fishies unsold
Would lie in the ground a-strew.

The cats have to steal away to prevent the other cats of the island from
following.

Ah ! well a-day ! what evil looks
Had I from old and young !
Instead of the Herring Gull, the Map
About my neck was hung.

PART III

There passed a weary time. Each throat
Was parched, and glazed each eye.
A weary time ! a weary time !
How matted was our fur,
When looking forward, I beheld
A something in a fir.

The ancient Islander beholdeth a sign in a tree afar off.

At first it seemed a little speck,
And then it seemed a mist ;
It changed and changed, and took at last
A certain shape, I wist.

A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist !
And as we neared the speck, the mist,
It suddenly ‘came clear,
I wist that shape, I wist, I wist!

At its nearer approach, it seemeth him to be a cross ; and picking up
his pace he calleth to Nikki.

The cross is there! We found the place!
The treasure is all mine!
‘Ahem,’ she said,
‘Did’st say it is all thine?’

I sat me down, and licked a spot,
And said, ‘it’s mine, it’s thine.’

A flash of joy ;
Both of us then, in merriment,
Danced round a bit for joy,
Gramercy ! we for joy did grin,
And all at once our breath drew in,
In anticipation coy.

And horror follows. For where is the promised treasure?

We dug the sand, we dug the earth,
In circles around the fir,
We dug and dug and dug again,
‘Til the bedrock was near.

Our paws were hot and sore by now,
The day was well nigh done !

Almost upon the western wave
Rested the broad bright Sun ;
When Nikki held up and stepped aside
From the digging she had done.

It seemeth there is no treasure.

No use, she said, there’s nothing here,
No mice, no fish, no vole,
The Map you have is fake my friend,
We’d better pack up and go.

The cats return home. Frank blames the Map.

Alas ! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)
How sadly I am used !
The Map wasn’t real, I’ve been had,
I feel so sad and abused.

PART IV

And ever and anon through out his future life an agony constraineth him
to search the island ;

Since then, at an uncertain hour,
That agony returns :
And till my ghastly tale is told,
This heart within me burns.

What loud uproar bursts from that ship !
The workers are all there :
But on the bridge the Cap’n stares,
He waits for you, I fear,
And hark the mighty vessel’s bell
Which biddeth us ‘come here.’

O Kitten-Cat! this soul hath been
Alone in scary woods,
So lonely ‘twas that Bast herself
Scarce seeméd there to be.
Farewell, farewell ! but this I tell
To thee, thou Kitten-Cat !

He saileth well, who riggeth well,
And knows just where he’s at!
He saileth best who riggeth best,
And knows which way to go,
But as for any treasure hunts,
Forget them as they’re faux.

The Islander, whose eye is bright,
Whose beard is black and square,
Is gone : and now the Kitten-Cat
Turned from the Mouser’s berth.

He went like one that hath been stunned,
And is of sense forlorn :
A sadder and a wiser cat,
He rose the morrow morn.