‘The Owl and The Pussy-Cat’
The owl and the pussy cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat…
I am accumulating quite a book collection I must say. I have recently acquired a few more books.. mostly because they’re pretty (oh like you’ve never judged a book by its cover?!) But in the throws of reorganising my bookshelf I took an inadvertent trip down memory lane. I found a few old poetry books from when I was a small child; one of there poems was one that I performed when I was six for my primary school poetry competition. And I won by the way, but that doesn’t matter. The poem was ‘The Owl and The Pussy Cat’ by Edward Lear. And that is our poem for today.
The owl and the pussy cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat…
Name me a more iconic line of poetry… I’ll wait - Because it’s a classic for a reason, it is a poem that is so utterly charming it pleases all both young and old alike. It is a poem that makes no sense whatsoever, for example what on earth are Bong-Trees? But that is where the Owl and Pussy-Cat went. Also we have to address the fact that and Cat and an Owl falling in love and getting married seems incredibly far fetched as in reality a cat would probably eat the owl. But, why the heck shouldn’t they fall in love? That is part of its charm!
Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl!
How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?”
We end our wonderfully whimsical tale in the land where the Bong-Trees grow, the owl and there pussy cat meet a pig in a wig who happens to have the very thing the Pussy cat and the owl are after: a ring, albeit at the end of his nose, his nose - with a ring at the end of his nose.
There is no such possibility, in this poem, of friend or fowl, for they seem to be interchangeable, for who else but a Turkey should marry the Pussy-cat and the Owl. And why not? For they have the happiest of endings any such person could wish for:
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.
Six year old me did myself proud I must say. It a poem of such perfect idealism. A world where everything is calm and peaceful, where all get along so well. I would advise you too also take a trip down the memory lane of childhood and explore the world which you used to live. For childhood was perfect. As it should be. It was a much simpler time.