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Category: Poetry
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I’m squashed up against the glass

Im’a watching that damned dog-

Layin’ right out there swelled up like a pumpkin.

That red tongue a’ his is flappin out

Done swallered done a good helping a’ my meat, I worked hard a’ gettin’.

That damned dog is the color of a ‘coon.

He skeered me one night when I walked up to the porch,

And there he was hoggin up the damned swing like it was his.

And I looked at him, and I says,

 “Listen here you fool, this’ e’here is my house, my porch, my porch swing. Ya got it-”

And the damned fool barked like’n he heard me, but’n he didn’t believe me.

I remember the day that bucket headed hefer brought in that newspaper with him wrapped up in it. Sayin we was keepin’ him whether’n I liked it or not.

Well I didn argue ‘cause I didn’t think he’d a been this much trouble seein on how he

Was s’ small and what not. But that was jus’ his disguise, I tell you what!

That damned woman done fattened him up with my steaks!

And lets him sleep in the house when it’s “too cold”!

 A dogs a damned dog I tells her, he’s got fur, and if he’s got any sense he’ll keep his self warm. but’n she pays me no mind and lets him right on in.

Like’n he’s some kind of person or somethin’.

I tell you what, that damn dog has a better life aroun’ here than I do.