But he's mighty amusin', For all 'at he's so queer, Eyes so mighty solemn, Askin' like an' clear, And when he puts his paws up, Head stuck on one side-- Jes' naturally love every hair In his durn Dutch hide.
True and trustful, never doubting, Is my young and handsome friend; Always jolly, Full of fun, Bright eyes gleaming Like the sun-- Never see him blue or pouting From the day's break to its end.
Whether I am "flush" or "busted" Makes no difference to him! "Let's be gay, sir"-- He would say, sir-- "Won't have any Other way, sir!" Oh, he's never cross and crusted-- Light of heart and full of vim!
Often we go out together For a ramble far and wide-- Catch the breezes Fresh and strong Down the mountain Swept along-- For we never mind the weather When we two are side by side.
But my friend is sometimes quiet, And I've caught his clear brown eye Gazing at me, Mute, appealing-- Telling something, Yet concealing, Yes, he'd like to talk! Well, try it-- "Bow, wow, wow," and that's his cry!
I have a little brindle dog, Seal-brown from tail to head. His name I guess is Theodore, But I just call him Ted.
He's only eight months old to-day I guess he's just a pup; Pa says he won't be larger When he is all grown up.
He plays around about the house, As good as he can be, He don't seem like a little dog, He's just like folks to me.
And when it is my bed-time, Ma opens up the bed; Then I nestle down real cozy And just make room for Ted
And oh, how nice we cuddle! He doesn't fuss or bite, Just nestles closely up to me And lays there still all night.
We love each other dearly, My little Ted and me. We're just good chums together, And always hope to be.
He was lost!--Not a shade of doubt of that; For he never barked at a slinking cat, But stood in the square where the wind blew raw, With a drooping ear, and a trembling paw, And a mournful look in his pleading eye, And a plaintive sniff at the passer-by That begged as plain as a tongue could sue, "Oh, Mister, please may I follow you?" A lorn, wee waif of a tawny brown Adrift in the roar of a heedless town. Oh, the saddest of sights in a world of sin Is a little lost pup with his tail tucked in!
Well, he won my heart (for I set great store On my own red Bute, who is here no more) So I whistled clear, and he trotted up, And who so glad as that small lost pup?