An Old Dog's Dreamings

In the backyard in the mid day sun on the concrete path he lay Old Tim the dog is frail and old he's seen a better day He slept there in the mid day warmth and to him came the dream That he was young and fit again and full of self esteem. He raced along the sunlit field pursuing the quick brown hare The warm wind blowing from the south was ruffling his brown hair A three years old dog in his prime the hare dodged left and right His master Jimmy cheered him on and laughed loud in delight. The hare raced through a rushy patch and up the bushy height And he made his clean get away when Tim of him lost sight He returned to his master Jim who gently stroked his head It's not your fault he got away 'you good dog Tim' he said. He awoke from his pleasant dream the birds sang on the trees And on the flower patch in the yard the small brown honey bees. Were busily gathering nectar their droning soft and low And from their hive in neighbour's yard were buzzing to and fro. He dozed again and as he slept he had another dream He was a young dog rising two and strong and fit and lean The bull terrier from across the way attacked him on the street But he pinned the bully to the bitumen and victory tasted sweet. His master Jimmy felt so proud he said 'you good dog Tim' I did not think that you would prove more than a match for him This was a moment he'd recall when looking back in time He was the top dog in the block and near his glorious prime. He woke again on the back yard the sun was shining bright And butterflies were flitting in the beautiful sunlight Just for a moment he'd been young and older dogs seemed slow And he was in his marvellous prime ten glorious years ago. He dozed again another dream the night was black as pitch As he copulated in the grove with a dark collie bitch He'd fought another dog for her and had frightened him away She stayed with him all through the night and she left him in the day. He woke again this time he stood and down the path walked slow And on the flower patch in the yard the bees droned soft and low His once brown muzzle now quite gray the years in him now show And he was in his marvellous prime ten glorious years ago.