Little Lost Pup - Arthur Gutterman.

[Paul]

LITTLE LOST PUP

He was lost - not a shade of a 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 mournful look in his pleading eye
And a plaintive sniff at passer-by,
That begged as plain as tongue could
sue
"O, 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.
Now he shares my board and he owns
my bed,
And he fairly shouts when he hears my
tread.
Then if things go wrong, as they some-
times do,
And the world is cold and I'm feeling
blue,
He asserts his rights to soothe my woes,
With a warm tongue and nice cold nose
And a silky head on my arm or knee
And a paw as soft as a paw should be.
When we rove the woods for a league
about,
He's as full of pranks as a school let out,
For he romps and frisks like a three-
month colt,
And he runs me down like a thunder-
bolt.
Oh, the blithest of sights in the world
so fair,
Is a gay little pup with his tail in the air.


Arthur Gutterman.