Your dog is not a dog of grace;He does not wag the tail or beg;He bit Miss Dickson in the face;He bit a Bailie in the leg.
What tragic choices such a dogPresents to visitor or friend!Outside there is the Glasgow fog;Within, a hydrophobic end.
Yet some relief even terror brings,For when our life is cold and grayWe waste our strength on little things,And fret our puny souls away.
A snarl! A scruffle round the room!A sense that Death is drawing near!And human creatures reassumeThe elemental robe of fear.
So when my colleague makes his moanOf careless cooks, and warts, and debt,-- Enlarge his views, restore his tone,And introduce him to your Pet!
Quod Raleigh.
