In a one-room apartment in Ventani Gut
A mother weeps in hopeless fright,
For her children are hungry, the rent money's gone
And her man vanished into the night,
Tomorrow the hightowner landlord will come—
Tomorrow he'll drive them away.
But then in the darkness of night she awakes
And recalls what the old legends say—

Chorus:
"Tell your troubles to cats, the nightwalking cats,
The black cats of Althea Jane,
Tell your trouble to cats, Her messenger-cats,
For She cures the poor folk of their pain.

So she creeps out the doorway in search of a cat
And what should she find on the stair,
But a bright-eyed black tomcat, as bold and as proud
As if he had awaited her there.
She told him her woes, and he listened, it seemed,
With his eyes gold, unwinking, and bright,
And then when she had finished, he ran to the roof
And the shadows soon hid him from sight.
Now when she had turned homeward, it just might have been
That a shadow moved where none should be,
And a shadow cat-footed, moved silent away—
But of course there was no one to see.
And it could be this shadow danced off on the roofs
With a shadowy cat-wise-like guile,
And it could be this shadow slipped soundlessly in
By a window of Ventani Isle.
Come next morning, the mother awoke to the sound
Of a kitten that purred at her feet,
And a second and third were curled up by the sides
Of her children that slept sound and sweet.
They say great was her wonder and great her surprise
And still greater her joy and delight,
For the kittens were black and each bore round its neck
A fat pouch full of silverbits bright!

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