The day my dog smoked a pipe
Was dark and dreary,
His eyes, however,
Were bright and cheery,
Like a Hawk on a wire
over looking the newspaper,
My wife served him a plate of bacon,
He said not a word,
But sniffed,
and munched thoughtfully.
Afterward this skillfully lighting my pipe
He began puffing and turning the pages
first the daily news, then the sports section.
I slapped the paper in defiance,
He simply humphed, puffed and turned the pages.
My wife shewed me away.
And I incensed jumped upon
The Mantle piece curling my tail
around my hinds.
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