Number 128. Pong!

Pong!

Every now and then we get,

The smell of something very wet.

It comes into the living room,

As musty as an ancient tomb;

A mouldy, almost rancid smell,

And pungent, like manure as well.

And though it reeks, as I have said;

A smell you wouldn’t want in bed,

Or anywhere too close to hand,

You’d ask someone to have it banned,

If it was possible to do,

It isn’t quite as bad as poo…

The smell is mostly like a bog,

Since what it is, is soggy dog!

© Stephen Saunders 

Number 127, Rocky.

Rocky.

Rufus isn’t all that keen,

On Rocky, seeing how he’s been

And torn a chunk of Rufus out,

In a nasty fighting bout.

Rufus went to say hello,

But Rocky dived in just below

His throat, and grabbed a bite of skin,

That opened up some bits within

Poor Rufus, leaving him in need

Of surgery, to stop the bleed-

ing, and it seemed to guarantee,

The vet a pretty hefty fee!

Rocky’s not a name that you,

Would normally be giving to

A poodle, or a soppy mutt,

That’s fluffy, soft and cuddly, but

You’d give it to a dog that’s tough;

One that’s hard as nails and gruff,

Like Rocky Marciano, who

You wouldn’t want to do to you

Fierce or friendly- anything

He’s used to doing in the ring!

Rocky, Tyson, Stalin, Mao,

These names associate somehow

With personalities or breeds, 

And if you look along their leads,

Somewhere at the other end,

Is a nasty dog’s best friend!

He wouldn’t hurt a fly they say,
In their idiotic way;
You can see they just adore,
Their pit bull like a Labrador!
Though we can see it all the while,
These owners all are in denial.
Rocky’s owner doesn’t see,
Just how scary he can be,
And you know I have to tell
Rocky’s a Black Lab as well!

 

© Stephen Saunders