By the Rottweilers of regret
The hounds of hell are nudging the devil's legs
Jealous of the attention given to the Labradors of lament
The Chihuahuas of chaos have been nipping at the ankles
of angels and demons alike
While the Shar Pei's of serenity busy themselves with books
on floral arrangement and the first reich
To avoid the Mastiffs of melancholy, who always seem to be
about to go on yet another hunger strike
The Beagles of bewilderment have once again gotten lost
You'd think at least one of them could read a map
The always frisky Pomeranians of peril bide their time
Waiting for the watchdog on duty to take a nap
The Border Collies of compassion have given up on
every lost cause they had been cherishing
As the Whippets of woe practice for hours on end
the lost art of being subtly discouraging
Which doesn't bother the Curs of confusion as much
as wearing a little doggie sweater is embarrassing
*this bit has its' roots in a night of riffing J.R. and I had on the hounds of hell cliche while at work in Anchorage one very slow night.
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