Its not for handful of diamonds so bright
It's not for a yacht, or a glass of Champagne
Its for fields that are thoroughly soaked in the rain.
I jump in it, play in it,
Sit in it, lay in it.
Filthy and black and impossible to clean
Beautiful mud and the finest I've seen.
When I see a ploughed field standing clotted in rows
I happily squeeze it all up though my toes.
Though my owners both shriek when I come through the door
I traipse it in collapse all over the floor.
Fall in it, glide in it
Roll in it, slide in it.
Nothing else causes my bright eyes to gloat
But the beautiful mud that is mating my coat.
When I come to a ditch or a puddle, by Heck!
I merrily leap in right up to my neck.
I don't care if my fringes get stuck to my eyes
It will probably brush out (if it ever dries).
Wallow and stomp in it.
Slither and romp in it.
Though sensible really is my claim to fame
Beautiful mud is the name of the game.
When I was Young. (For an elderly Pom)
I may be a little bit stiff in my joints
There is white round my muzzle as well,
You should have seen me when I was a lad
I can tell you I raised Merry Hell!!
I was much bigger, in fact I was HUGE!
A Newfoundland had nothing n me!
And brave! I would climb trees to rescue a cat
And drag people out of the sea.
I could run like a greyhound or even a deer,
Like a lightening streak I would pass.
I came first in the Derby a few years ago
By tearing along on the grass.
I tackled three burglars all in one day,
although I do not like to boast.
They were not very pleased when I crunched them all up
And had them for tea on some toast!
I was known far and wide for my daring deeds
And gold medals were round my neck hung.
Why, if I saw a Bulldog out there in the street
I would rush up and stick out my tongue............
When I was young!
