The Dogs Book of Verse | Page 3

new baby?At Bud Hicks' house, you see.?You'd think Bud Hicks had somethin'?The way he talks to me!?He comes around a-braggin',?An' when he wouldn't quit?I said: "What good's a baby??You can't hunt fleas on it."
Then Bud turned to me an' told me?How loud that kid could yell,?An' lots I can't remember,?He had so much to tell.?But I got tired o' hearin'?An' so I ast him, quick,?"If you wuz in a-swimmin'?Could it go get a stick?"
There is no use a-talkin',?Bud thinks their baby's fine!?Huh! I'd a whole lot rather?Jest have a pup like mine.?I'll bet it's not bald-headed!?But if Bud doesn't fail?To let me hear it yellin',?I'll let him pull Spot's tail.
ANONYMOUS.
THAT THERE LONG DOG
Funniest little feller?You'd ever want to see!?Browner 'an the brownest leaf?In the autumn tree.?Shortest little bow legs!?Jes' barely touch the floor--?And long--b'gosh, the longest dog?I ever seen afore!
But he's mighty amusin',?For all 'at he's so queer,?Eyes so mighty solemn,?Askin' like an' clear,?And when he puts his paws up,?Head stuck on one side--?Jes' naturally love every hair?In his durn Dutch hide.
ALICE GILL FERGUSON.
MY FRIEND
True and trustful, never doubting,?Is my young and handsome friend;
Always jolly,
Full of fun,
Bright eyes gleaming
Like the sun--

Never see him blue or pouting?From the day's break to its end.
Whether I am "flush" or "busted"?Makes no difference to him!
"Let's be gay, sir"--
He would say, sir--
"Won't have any
Other way, sir!"

Oh, he's never cross and crusted--?Light of heart and full of vim!
Often we go out together?For a ramble far and wide--
Catch the breezes
Fresh and strong
Down the mountain
Swept along--

For we never mind the weather?When we two are side by side.
But my friend is sometimes quiet,?And I've caught his clear brown eye
Gazing at me,
Mute, appealing--
Telling something,
Yet concealing,

Yes, he'd like to talk! Well, try it--?"Bow, wow, wow," and that's his cry!
ANONYMOUS.
TED
I have a little brindle dog,?Seal-brown from tail to head.?His name I guess is Theodore,?But I just call him Ted.
He's only eight months old to-day?I guess he's just a pup;?Pa says he won't be larger?When he is all grown up.
He plays around about the house,?As good as he can be,?He don't seem like a little dog,?He's just like folks to me.
And when it is my bed-time,?Ma opens up the bed;?Then I nestle down real cozy?And just make room for Ted
And oh, how nice we cuddle!?He doesn't fuss or bite,?Just nestles closely up to me?And lays there still all night.
We love each other dearly,?My little Ted and me.?We're just good chums together,?And always hope to be.
MAXINE ANNA BUCK.
LITTLE LOST PUP
He was lost!--Not a shade of doubt of that;?For he never barked at a slinking cat,?But stood in the square where the wind blew raw,?With a drooping ear, and a trembling paw,?And a mournful look in his pleading eye,?And a plaintive sniff at the passer-by?That begged as plain as a tongue could sue,?"Oh, Mister, please may I follow you?"?A lorn, wee waif of a tawny brown?Adrift in the roar of a heedless town.?Oh, the saddest of sights in a world of sin?Is a little lost pup with his tail tucked in!
Well, he won my heart (for I set great store?On my own red Bute, who is here no more)?So I whistled clear, and he trotted up,?And who so glad as that small lost pup?
Now he shares my board, and he owns my bed,?And he fairly shouts when he hears my tread.?Then if things go wrong, as they sometimes do,?And the world