But--he had a right to go, you know.
He was a man.
ANONYMOUS.
ROVER-DOG
Old Rover-Dog, he toasts his toes
Right by th' chimney-fire wif me.
I turned his long ear wrong side out
An' he was s'rprised as he could be!
An' nen he reached right out an' took
An' int'rest in my lolly-pop--
That's w'y I shook my finger hard
At him, 'cause he jus' better stop.
I ast him which his sweet toof was,
An' he jus' laffed an' showed me where
He keeps um, up an' down his mouf--
(I guess there's mos' a hundred there).
He's got a cunning little house,
But you can't climb right in, at all--
Ain't hardly big enough for him;
I guess it is a size too small.
'Cause when he is "at home" his head
Stays looking out of his front door;
His paws hang out convenient like,
So's folks they will shake hands some more.
Old Rover-Dog, w'en he likes folks,
He thumps th' floor hard wif his tail--
Where 'tis you've heard that sound before
Is w'en your pa, he drives a nail.
One time my Uncle Fred p'tend
He's "tramp-mans" an' will come right in;
I put my ear on Rover's back
So's I could hear th' growl begin.
An' oncet he thought he'd try his nap
Right in my grampa's big armchair.
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