My Mongrel and Me

Me and my mongrel aren't pedigrees
nothing special,
bony knees.
He has flees;
What? Not me!
Oh please!


This mans best friend,
That'll never end.
Friends for life...
Upset the wife.


She spotted a louse,
not let in the house.
Got him clean;
struggled in bath;
he thinks I'm mean.


Doesn't like wet;
doesn't like Vet.
Or cats;
Likes cow pats.


Loves a roll,
on a smelly dead mole.
I don't mind,
were two of a kind.


No pedigree,
we're Mongrels you see?
No heirs and graces;
A mixture of races.


Not interbred;
old, healthy,
not dead.
Our genes are a mixture,
were old, a permanent fixture.

We'll go on for ever,
birds of a feather.
I love my dog,
he thinks I'm a God.              
































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