THE OLD GREYHOUND:

I´m just an old used greyhound dressed in bone & skinny skin,

With only one good eye, I´m mottled, with a limp & very thin,

I lost my other good eye while out hunting-& running I was shot,

By mistake, it was told by my cruel owner, the hard old Mr. Scott,

I´d been with him & beaten daily since he´d bought me as a pup,

Beaten, starved, tormented, tethered-& in cold dawns woken up,

To go hunting rabbits, deer, possums & anything else that moved,

Scott relied on my nose & speed to find anything furred & hooved.

The daunting day came when I was too old, too slow & far too tired,

Old Scott brought in another poor new pup & had me now retired,

Rather than feed me, he decided to string me up on the old oak tree,

As he was tying his evil knot, an angel called Fran appeared before me,

Gentle Frannie, ranting & raving at Mr. Scott for being a cruel old man,

Taking the rope she led me away from death by her gentle loving hand,

She lulled my soul with loving words & bathed my sore battle-scarred face,

And for the first time in my sorry life, I lay down by the warm soft fireplace.

I´ve been fattened up by Fannie´s specially made & fine home cooked food,

And unlike Mr. Scott, she never shouts & beats & is always in a good mood,

For the first time in my life I´m now cosseted with love & truly warm & snug,

Covered up at night by Frannie´s coloured hand knitted, soft warm cosy rug,

As I lie before the warm flame licking fire, I dream of freedom far & deep,

Of lost forest mists & of unsuspecting prey, deep within their restless sleep,

Aah, the freedom of the hunt, the chase & on passing, the forest scented tree,

But I would never change it now for all the tender love that Old Frannie has for me.