Some people need the canine breed
(Lord knows, I'm not one of 'em.)
If you ask me, I just can't see
Why anyone would love 'em.
I used to ride through countryside
Upon my trusty Schwinn,
Until one day, one took away
A portion of my shin.
And often too, when strolling through
A park's extensive green,
My restful mood by barking crude
Is rendered unserene.
"He loves to play," the owners say,
"He wouldn't hurt a flea."
"I believe you but, please take your mutt
A hundred miles from me."
And so it goes. Oh I suppose
I should learn to accept,
In Nature's plan, this "friend of man,"
But look where I just stepped.