The Dog
©2007 Gibbens/Weston

The King of England used to beat the Queen
As a simple means of venting spleen,
Till one day most apologetic
He said, I wish I had a dog to kick.
I wish I had a dog to kick
With my hobnailed boots and my walking stick,
I wish I had, I wish I had,
I wish I had a dog to kick.

Her Highness feeling tender toe to tail
Leapt upon this notion without fail.
She hunted high and low for some poor dog
To take her place when he had the itch to flog.
She wished he had a dog to beat
With his two bare hands and his two flat feet,
She wished he had, she wished he had,
She wished he had a dog to beat.

But nowhere could be found a hound or cur
Willing to stand in for poor old her
Till one day climbing up to her high tower
And glancing westward at the evening hour
She thought she saw a dog to whack,
To whack red, white and blue and black,
She thought she saw, she thought she saw,
She thought she saw a dog to whack.

My dear, I see a land shaped like a dog,
Two parts mountain and the rest is bog.
The people look as though they need a king
And while you’re at it you can teach them English.
And so he had a dog to pet
With his rifle butt and his bayonet:
Erin, Erin, Erin, Erin,
He had a dog to pet.

But one day when the King with upraised hand
Was making peace throughout the dog-shaped land
And all the countryside was filled with smoke,
Why, suddenly that dog got up and spoke.
You’ve made me a dog that bites
With my sharp strong teeth and all my might.
I am, I am, I am, I am,
I am a dog that bites.

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