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My Friend: In
Memorium
Copyright © 2000, Michael S. Robinson
No waggin' tail or perked-up
ears;
No headin' off them mav'rick steers;
No beggin' scraps or chasin' coons'
or howlin' at them harvest moons...
No wakin' in some lonely place
to lick his master's dusty face,
or ponderin' his best friend's rhyme
when work's gone slack, past shippin' time...
No pesky fleas or stubborn strays;
No frosty nights or endless days,
or lookin' love, square in the face,
carousin' at the neighbor's place...
No painful quills to burn his nose;
No jagged ice to cut his toes:
No bark to tell a stanger nears;
No sadness at his master's tears...
It's in the genes---a heeler's good
at doin' all the things he should.
Ol' Butch worked hard right to the end,
but, most of all, he was my friend.
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