Is the wildcat still a hunter? Do its whispers charm the halls?
Are the mice within the courtyard swift as shadows when night falls?
Does the purring of the feline sound like minstrels in the game?
And by the way, did they speak of its fame?
Did they speak of its name 'neath the castle?
And when the feast burned bright
In the light of the moon, does the huntress take her claim?
With eyes aglow like lanterns lighting paths to hidden prey
Does the whisper of her padding move like legends through the grain?
And through the night, do they honor her way?
Do they sing of her grace 'cross the highlands?
Where the meadows meet the sky
Is the raven still a herald? Does it croak the close of day?
Are the winds upon the moorland the songs that it would play?
Do the whispers of the catkin weave like tales of old folk's loom?
In the silence, does it's echo fill the room?
Do they tell of its tales in the tavern?
Is the wildcat still a hunter? Do its whispers charm the halls?
Are the mice within the courtyard swift as shadows when night falls?
Does the purring of the feline sound like minstrels in the game?
And by the way, did they speak of its fame?
Did they speak of its name 'neath the castle?
And when the feast burned bright
Is the cat with fur of midnight, stalking through the servant's hall?
Swift and silent as the moonrise, watchful guardian of the small.
Does it keep the rats at bay with but a glint within its gaze?
Ah, the whispers sing its praise, the castle’s quiet gaze.
Whispered tales of the ranger, tabby clad in shadows bold,
Pouncing softly past the banquet, where the fires fend the cold.
By the hearth, a tail is flicking, eyes that gleam like molten gold
Through the corridors it's slinking, stories of its deeds retold
Hear the legends by the fireside, of the cat both sleek and brave
In the moonlit watch, a sentinel, the court and kingdom it will save
Does it stroll along the ramparts, where the wind whispers its name?
And in the gardens, does its swift hunt claim unwary prey the same?
Our melody, a magic spell
Where feline minstrels own
In alleys and on rooftops
With minstrel paws well-strummed
We sing of milk and moonlight
And chase the rats for fun
A jester cat, a tabby bard
With lute and flute, we form a guard
The moon's our ballad, our spotlight high
As we perform 'neath velvet sky
Our tunes enchant, through night's embrace
Fierce knights of whiskers, fur and grace
Around the fires, our tales are spun
Of daring chases, battles won