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Hound Dog.
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Poetry by Bern. HOUND DOG.
Long floppy ears, down to the ground,
Experts tell me that you are a hound.
They say you are a hunter with a long tail,
A pedigree on four legs, Species male.
When we go walkies down in the town,
The people do stare some of them frown.
What breed is that, you'll hear them cry,
A Danish Fishing Hound, is my reply.
I'm as proud as can be, when you bark,
Especially when Burglars prowl in the dark.
For you are my friend a real good mate,
As long as you live there'll be bones on your plate.
My arm chair is yours when the Wife's not around,
But when she comes home your bed is the ground.
When you perform the tricks that you know,
I nod my old head and say, I told you so.
My Hound is intelligent with large brown eyes,
He gives me a feeling I cannot disguise.
For I love my old dog, He's got no name,
It doesn't matter what I call him, he comes just the same.
So when you next see us both in the town,
You'll know he's my dog, not just some clown.
Treat him with respect for that is his due,
And my Danish Fishing Hound will be friendly to you.
Bernard Shaw.
