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Any Good Dog Poems?


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"I'm only an old working terrier, who over the years has got slow. But in days gone by I ran with hounds, and was once even best in show."

 

Not mine, unashamedly borrowed from a picture caption in Eddie Chapman's The Real Jack Russell. Not really a poem and maybe loses a bit without the accompanying photograph in the book. But I have always liked it.

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A TRIBUTE.   Flash of teeth, a white hot pain, Yet on he pushes, time and again, No guiding light, no masters hand, He's on his own in this barren land.   His chest is heavy, breath running sho

Out of the pen,into the box Out today hopefully his first fox The breedings right, the works been done From the old bitch, her only son   A known sett, its not that deep A handy dig to earn his

There was a big dog called buck He had ray as his owner what luck After a measure and way they'd go for a walk every day Where ray tried to find women he could fukc .....

It wasn't me who bit those kids it was my curdog cousin, if I show my teeth you know I ain't bluffing, everyone knows me I've got guts galore hence why your breeding me to lurchers more and more, "release your dog" I know the score, two minutes of stick and that curs quit, you banned me for bullshit but I'm here to stay, if I die in the pit you know I wouldn't have it any other way.

 

One I made as I went along.

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I look like a lamb but I've got the heart of a lion, I kept your kids company while you was mining, Saturday morning we was out for a dig, I'll never forget the look on your face when you broke through to two big pigs.

 

For the beddys

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An early walk in the morning dew

A slow walk home with a rabbit or two

An afternoon in the vegetable patch

The radio tuned to the football match

A pint of stout ,a cold game pie

A faithful dog waiting to catch your eye

A warm log fire ,a leather bound book

A comfortable chair in the inglenook

And now its time to hit the hay

Your dog and you ...the perfect day .

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Out lamping for a rabbit or two, a cold wind blows it's just me and you, Coney sqauting I've picked him up, scanning the field then you off the torch, angry old farmer shouting from his front porch, blue lights flashing but it wasn't the filter, it's pc plod he's come to nick ya, well done you silly ole bugger thats you away for the rest of the winter.

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An early walk in the morning dew

A slow walk home with a rabbit or two

An afternoon in the vegetable patch

The radio tuned to the football match

A pint of stout ,a cold game pie

A faithful dog waiting to catch your eye

A warm log fire ,a leather bound book

A comfortable chair in the inglenook

And now its time to hit the hay

Your dog and you ...the perfect day .

nice one!
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Ah the hunting life.. The lurcher section.

Where the lads with the bullx have a constant erection.

3/8 or 5/8 or half cross who cares

There as bad as the saluki man who like to lamp hares.

Then to the terriers some black some white

But hardly any borders because we all no there shite.

I reckon you should give up the hunting SS as theres a poet lost within you somewhere,lol.

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U get up in the mornin rain in the sky hes standing at the gate that look in his eye.load up the gear and were away hes ready to put in another hard day.we get to the earth game is at home wont be long he wont be alone.turn on the collar dogs away looks like another good day.after a while we get a mark can faintly hear the old dogs bark.look at the box its 3.2 barking stops hes stuck to him like glue.the ground is hard the day is wet jacket heavy full of sweat.finally break through game is dead the old boy few marks on his head.back in the box another day done tomoro we do it all again with his son.

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Twas early spring in 48

And hounds were running strong.

The rugged hills o'er Kirkstone pass

Re echoed with their song.

Well reynard knew the fate in store,

In vain he doubled back.

No trick he knew could now avail

'Gainst that famed ullswater pack

 

But fate that guards o' er man and beast

Came now to succour him.

A cleft stood open in the rocks

And reynard dashed within.

But once again did fortune frown,

Death followed in his wake,

For butcher and badger they were there

To put his life at stake.

 

What happened then is only a guess.

No man will ever know.

Sun went down and the darkness fell

With terriers still below.

For 14 days and 14 nights

The dalesmen fought the fell

With dynamite and crowbar. And words unprintable.

 

Mid snow and ice with frost and gale,

They worked, they sweat, they swore away.

They turned the inside from that fell

A thousand tons and more.

And when it seemed all hope was gone

And 14 days had pasted,

There seemed no life in that prison grim

And seemed no life could last.

 

With crumbling rocks on every side

A final efforts made,

And butcher crawled out into the light

Alive and undismayed.

But badger had paid the price in full,

A price all brave hearts scorn.

So here's a toast from dalesman all

Good hunting where he's gone.

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