Doggy Poetry

A farmer's dog came into town, his christian name was Runt.
A noble pedigree had he -- "noblise oblige" his stunt.
And as he wandered thru the town, 'twas beautiful to see,
His work on every corner and his work on every tree.
He watered every gateway too and never missed a post,
For piddling was his specialty and piddling was his boast.
Then all the city dogs lined up with instinct true,
To start a piddling carnival to show the stranger through.
They sniffed him over one by one, they sniffed him two by two,
While Runt stood by in high disdain until they all were through.
Then just to show the whole shebang he didn't give a damn,
He trotted to a grocery store and piddled on a ham.
He piddled on a mackerel keg, he piddled on the floor,
And when the grocer kicked him out, he piddled through the door.
Then Runt did free lance piddling with fancy twirls and flips,
Like double dip and gimlet twist and all the latest hits.
As he was wetting merrily with hind leg lifted high,
All the dejected city dogs were piddling mighty dry.
Then on and on went noble Runt, by piles and scraps of tin,
He piddled blithely out of town as he'd come piddling in.
The city dogs a convention held, to ask what did defeat us?
And no one ever put them wise that Runt had diabetes.

(Author is Eugene Fields)

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Barbara Petersen, January 2002