Macavity’s a mystery cat; she’s called the Hidden Paw
For she’s the master authoress who defies all natural laws.
She’s the terror of Microsoft Word, the Shakespearian despair,
For when they reach the end of the rhyme, Macavity’s not there!

Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity,
She’s broken every writing law; she breaks the law of gravity.
Her powers of levitation would make a fakir stare,
And when you reach the end of the rhyme, Macavity’s not there!
You may seek her on FanFiction.net, you may just sit and stare,
But I tell you once and once again, Macavity’s not there!

Macavity’s a ginger cat, she’s very tall and thin;
You would know her if you saw her, for her eyes are bright within.
Her brow is simply full of thought; her paws are most petite,
Her fur is gold and neatly groomed, quite dainty are her feet.
She sways her head from side to side, with movements like a snake,
And when you think she’s half asleep, she’s always wide awake.

Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity,
For she’s greatness in feline guise, a stranger to depravity.
You may meet her in a by-street, you may see her in the square,
But when a rhyme’s been ended, then Macavity’s not there!

She’s outwardly respectable. (They say she cheats at cards.)
And her paw prints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard’s.
And when the story’s finished, but there’s still some ends to tie
Or when there’s controversy over truth and over lie,
Or a rhyme has been discovered, and has a distinctive flair,
Ay, there’s the wonder of the thing! Macavity’s not there!

And when the English teachers find a story’s gone astray,
Or the Artists find some sketches or some drawings by the way,
There may be a scrap of paper in the hall or on the stair,
But it’s useless to investigate-Macavity’s not there!
And when the find has been revealed, the readers often say:
“It must have been Macavity!”—but she’s a mile away.
You’ll be sure to find her resting, or a-licking of her paws,
Or engaged in reading piles of books about our Code of Laws.

Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity,
There never was a cat of such exclusiveness and suavity.
She always has a witty rhyme, and one or two to spare:
At whatever time the deed took place, Macavity wasn’t there!
And they say that all the cats whose awesome skills are widely sought,
Whose grins and famous antics just invoke creative thought,
Are nothing more than agents for the cat who all the time
Just controls their operations: The Napoleon of Rhyme!

"Macavity" is not owned by me. It is a poem written by T.S. Eliot, and I just edited it a little for my bio.