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

    The Mudcat Host sat on a stone:
    And listens to the dreck
    And thus spake on that ancient man,
    The bright-eyed VirusCheck.

    'The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared,
    Merrily did we drop
    Below the kirk, below the hill,
    Below the lighthouse top.

    The Sun came up upon the left,
    And into the West went down!
    And Max prepared a Radio Show
    For Catters all around.

    Closer and closer came the day,
    Till one Tuesday  at noon--'
    The Mudcat Host here beat his breast,
    Hearing a folkie tune.

    Now Max hath paced into the hall,
    Red in the nose, but pert;
    Nodding their heads before him go
    Bright Mary Mac, and Bert.

    The Mudcat Host he beats his breast,
    He flexes wrist and neck;
    And still runs  on that ancient loop,
    The endless Virus Check.

    And now attachments came, and they
    Were tyrannous and many:
    They crashed the Mudcat Radio,
    And left us without any!