Every night, before the sun
Goes totally behind the trees
Bertha, entering the run
Listens to the evening breeze.

And when the wind gives its consent
Bertha raises silver singing
And to the day that’s nearly spent
Lifts joyful voice of harmony ringing.

She sings of rippling water bowls
Which, in the blazing summer heat
Double as her swimming pool
To help her cool her little feet.

She sings of her sister who always makes trouble
And never refuses a chance to fight,
But looks to Bertha for hugs and cuddles
In the darkness of the night.

She sings of roaches, juicy and fat
For which she sacrifices time
Of chasing, catching, and chewing on that
Insect delicious, that snack divine.

She sings of her human, who loves her so,
And comes out many times a day
To let Bertha sit on her head or her toes
And snooze and pass the time away.

She sings of the world, of grass and of tree
Of sun and of moon and of simple delight,
And then softens, and slows, and ends quietly
Her song to the world, and gives way to the night.