You stupid little mutt,
I want to kick your butt.
Your barking is incessant,
my mood is most unpleasant.
Twenty-four/seven you bark,
from sun-up to sun-dark.
And when I lay down to nap,
Sleep is eluded ’cause you yap.
If I could have one wish,
It’d be your voicebox in a dish.
A shock collar around your neck,
might be my best bet.
Sugar is good and honey is sweet,
I pray you’ll go play in the street.
Perhaps its cruel, but ’tis true,
I hope your doggie days are few.
And in dog Heaven you can croon,
by the light of the silvery moon.
With gates of pearl and bones to nibble,
balls to chase and drool to dribble.