Walking the dog

There was a bonny Labrador

and a bonny dog was he.

His owner walked him  free of leash

so the fair world he could see.

O the fair world loved to see him

as he romped and capered around,

his flaxen fleece like sunlight

wove love around about.

 

He spun free, scampering wide

scampering here and there so fleet

while his owner feigned indifference

lest a policeman they should meet.

 

She thought the police were imbeciles.

Her dog he should run free

as long as people turned away

so they could only be.

 

O the fair world was all aghast

when the dog ran into the road.

With every swerving car was felt

the crush of a deadly load.

 

Gangly legs and flaxen fleece

narrowly escaped the slaughter

as a lorry swerved in panic

disembowelling the dog’s owner.

 

Now the bonny Labrador

in his basket sleeps in peace.

His once owner stands above

only bones with an unseen leash.

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