A Persevering Dog.
My darling Ghill, so shrewd and deft,
You follow at your mother’s heel,
Just as Achates never left
His master’s side thro’ friendly zeal.
The hall and kitchen, Ghill, you range,
You’re not a thing of tense and mood,
Unlike a woman ne’er you change,
Your cry is “Food, more food, more food”.
You, prince of beggars, live to eat
And crave for countless bones to gnaw,
You stand and beg for plates of meat,
And when you’ve finished, ask for more.
And when you’ve finished, ask for more.
