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Puppy dog Tale , I think.

A puppy dog chased me down the street,

Its owner you know I would love to meet.

I would ask him if their puppy had been taught to sing.

Its voice you know has a terribly false ring.

I like it when it wags its tail, I ask myself is it for sale.

Puppies sometimes they wear old hats.

They will chase anything from flies to bats.

The wildest of tales are told about Dogs

Some even say they will eat old frogs.

Not the dogs that I know they all like bones.

 Perhaps if the owner gives the puppy some bones,

He will produce better music with very fine tones.

Old Hennessy that lives down the street,

Tells me that puppies are good to eat.

Perhaps it is because he cannot afford meat.

I too am a pensioner without much money,

I would rather not touch Puppy meat I do so love honey.

This is another poem filled with nonsense I know,

Do not blame me blame the winter snow.

I am looking forward to winter when it is really cold.

I will then know that I am very, very old.

Bernard Shaw

Written especially for my Indian Mate and his family in sunny Calcutta, India