Back in the thirties, in the depression, when teachers and university graduates worked in the road gangs, and my grandad was trying to make a living from a small Sussex farm, food was short, and my Nana could not think what to cook for lunch. She looked across the kitchen towards the cat, and said, for want of anyone else to say it to, "I don't know what we are going to eat." The cat went out, to return shortly with a (Ooops, mustn't say that) piece of live mutton of the underground variety. Must be the only time a cat's offering has been appreciated in this family. My mother always said that Puss in Boots must have been based on a cat like that. I now can't check whether this was repeated. Not a song, but it could be folk lore, sometime.