This Poem was Submitted By: Lola Blaze On Date: 2000-04-08 23:45:00 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Tonight old Buck, he had a bath, To say the least it was a task. Convincing him it for the best His manner glum, you could have guessed That his ideas, they vary much From human ones he cannot trust. His eyes were sad, he was not pleased Solid he stood, but what he needed Was a whack upon his flank  For both of us, cause Buck he stank From weeks without a royal cleansing, Buck was proud, my patience ending. Every time he passed me by I looked at Buck and wondered why The smell of Buck would linger on, Long after good old Buck was gone. The bathtub scene, it was a mess He did his best, I must confess To live up to all that is known Behavior in lovers of bones And chasing cats at any hour Waking masters just to cower  At harsh words sleepily spoken Drawn inside, treat as a token Of peace and calming in the dawn Damp dark hours will soon be gone Then once again, Buck will prevail Muddy paws, he will not fail.

Copyright © April 2000 Lola Blaze

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