Old Horace Old Horace lives with me. When he comes home at three, He knocks at the door, He rolls on the floor, And comes to sit with me.
He watches my TV, He sits right on my knee, He takes a nap Upon my lap. That’s where he likes to be. Chorus: Ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba.
Old Horace drinks a lot; He drinks right from the pot; His favourite drink Is milk, I think; He likes it when it’s hot.
He eats food from a can, He likes it just one way; It doesn’t last, He finishes fast, He eats it every day. Chorus: Ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba.
He always catches birds, He doesn’t say a word. He looks at one And starts to run. He catches it for fun. Old Horace isn’t short, Old Horace isn’t fat. He’s very sweet, He has four feet. Old Horace is my cat! Chorus: Ba, ba, ba, ba, ba, ba.