Underneath (For a Puli)

My coat may be twisted and probably black
And you can't see which end holds my teeth,
But if somo one should shave me as bald as a coot
There's a nice little dog underneath.
Going or coming and which end is which
And whether I'm lying or sat.
You have only to lift up a handful of rope
There's a nice little dog under that.
I was bred for out doors, no lap-dog am I,
And my felted coat keeps out the rain.
You have only to peer through my eye-brows to find
A nice little dog once again.
Though I'm not brushed up like a powdery puff
And my coat is not scented and curled
I am honest and true, and my owners agree
I'm the best little dog in the world.

 

The Top of The Stairs (for a bull dog puppy)

What a howling and moaning
What a shrieking and groaning
It echoes all over the down
There's a Bull puppy there
On the uppermost stair
And he's saying he can not get down.
Fetch a policeman, please do,
And the Fire Brigade too
His face is all covered with frown.
He's convinced that his lot
Will end in a drop
And he's saying he can not get down.
He's marooned on a ledge
Peering over the edge.
A fat little lovable clown.
He knows he's done wrong
But the way down is long
And he's saying he can not get down.
There's a rush to the hall
Incase he should fall.
There are bull dogs of fame and renown,
But he's surely the best
Hold him close to your chest
And carry him all the way down.

 
 

The Bow (For a Shih-Tzu)

I know that my coat reaches down to the ground
And they groom me at least once a day.
I'm admired for my face and my beautiful tail
At least so I've heard people say.
But I'm not a daft lap-dog in spite of my looks
I'm as masculine as I can be
You can ask any dog that passes me by
Who is threatened severely by me!
I know I have hair falling over my face
So I can not see where I'm at.
Though they tie up my fringe in a cute little bow
I am never accustomed to that.
At the first chance I get I pull it right off
And trample it under my feet.
Its no use them saying its all for my good
And to keep me all tidy and neat.
I feel like a ponce with a bow on my head
A rubber-band though I don't mind.
But they will tie a ribbon in spite of my growls
I suppose that they mean to be kind.
I am out in the garden as soon as I can
And the bow in the bushes I hurl.
What they don't realize is the people I meet,
Will think I'm a soppy old GIRL!

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