A SWEET little terrier pup
Of the Taurus persuasion was mine;
His tail had been shed,
And was stumpy and red,
But what there was of it was fine.
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His eyes were of heaven's own blue
(A little bloodshot, it is true),
His nose altogether askew,
And his paws looked as if he'd been through
A season's hard play on the nine;
And yet,
You bet,
He was a good deal of a dog.
He'd make a game fight with a hen;
He'd sit on his haunches erect;
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Sophomore Studies at Yale.
