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.