Lots of people have a rug.
Very few have a Pug.
(E.B White)
Starts off in the morning, wakes up at six,
Grooms itself using its tongue and licks.
I give it breakfast with a friendly pat.
That's the daily morning of my cat.
Returns for lunch at one o' clock.
Eats milk rice and then goes for a walk.
Sometimes even hunts and catches a rat.
That's the daily afternoon of my cat.
Naps after lunch outside my door.
Sleeps so deeply, perhaps even snores.
Doesn't like the ground; it prefers a mat.
That's the daily evening of my cat.
Wakes up refreshed and comes for dinner.
Does it eat too much? Shouldn't it be thinner?
Eats and sleeps - hope it doesn't get fat.
That's the daily night of my cat.
(M. Tarun Prasad)
I am a dog.
And you are a flower.
I lift my leg up.
And give you a shower!
A dog and his bone was on the roam,
Where can I find this bone a home?
Will I bury it next to the tree?
No, too easy for others to see.
What about next to the garden shed?
Maybe in the middle of the garden bed,
Behind the sty where the pigs all are,
What about somewhere right away far.
I think I know what I will do,
I'll just sit down and have a chew,
Tomorrow will be another new day,
I'll find a spot then for the bone to stay.
(John Williams)
There once was a hunter named Frawley
Who lived in a shack, outside Raleigh.
His dog, funny but true,
Would only hunt honeydew.
The dog was a true melon collie.
(William Robinson)
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