PUPPY dog, rough as a bramble, Eyed like a saint, Beggar to slobber and gambol, Corky and quaint, Chasing your tail like a fubsy turbillion, Plaguing a playmate with fuss of a million Gnats, But keen as a kestrel And fierce as a stoat is, A-thrill to ancestral Furies at notice Of rats, Rats, little hound of Beelzebub, rats! And as you sleep off a surfeit, Mischief and tea, Prone on the summer-warm turf, it Surely must be (Rapturous whimper and tremulant twitching), Somewhere or other there's hunting bewitching; @3That's@1 More blesséd than biscuit; I'll lay, through your slumbers, They squeak and they frisk it In shadowy numbers, R-r-rats, Rats, little hound of Beelzebub, rats! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MASTER'S TOUCH by HORATIO (HORATIUS) BONAR THE PROTESTATION by THOMAS CAREW W'EN I GITS HOME by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR GYPSY MAN by JAMES LANGSTON HUGHES THE DEPARTED by JOHN BANISTER TABB OUR SOLDIERS' SANTIAGO SONG by DAVID GRAHAM ADEE |