It seems that I've reached Heaven,
or it's doorstep at any rate,
and been winding round St. Peter's ankles
by the Pearly Gates,
I've plucked the angels' harp strings
and made a merry sound,
But it's plucking at my heartstrings
that you are not around.
So I think I'll sit and wait here,
just outside the door,
And as the souls come floating in,
I'll tap them with my paw,
And when you seek admittance,
they'll rename this place -
It will become Purradise,
and these the Purry Gates!