Behind the Wire
Well now it seems that I am growing old,
And though I am used to living in the cold,
I'm sick of standing gazing through the wire
And need a little space beside the fire.
When I was young and splendid in my prime
The honours heaped upon me were sublime.
Admired and feted as the very best
But now some other dog takes all your time
And occupies the place that once was mine.
The kennel maid's the only one I see
Nobody comes to pat or talk to me.
When folks admire the trophies in the hall
And rainbow coloured rosettes on the wall,
Remember then my very famous name
That set your feet upon the path to fame.
Don't leave me here, unloved, behind the wire,
But find me some small space beside the fire.
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