Saturday, June 17, 2006

A Dog In The Bog

i very much like a dog in the bog
i do not like his paw eaten raw
i would not could not eat his black eyes
i should not stood not eat him with fries

he likes to play in the water you know
he likes to stay there in sleet or the snow
he never complains when the water is brown
he always keeps wearing an opposite frown

he sticks to the trails on a long nature hike
he rides a ten speed and a three wheeled trike
we go to the forest where trees are so green
he keeps his fur glossy and his figure so lean

i like my bog dog cause he is my good friend
i'll love him forever around every bend
people may ask why he hangs in the muck
i say cause he thinks he's a kind of a duck

a duck they will ask and i say yes it's true
and then they will nod and say how do you do
i shake with my hand as they offer me theirs
and prance about laughing in my underwear

my dog in the bog is a buddy of mine
i found him upon a small boat on the rhine
he was rowing the craft and i'll say that's a feat
cause his paws are much smaller than any you'd meet

how could he row when dogs aren't that smart
he can also lay claim to some very good art
he paints and he draws and directs the odd film
and fires the clay in his very own kiln

my dog is so great and i love him so much
he can sing he can dance and all sorts and all such
he's my dog in the bog and we'll always be mates
like a fig's not a fig without very good dates

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