Poetry, by Ken Bradbury, 2000
Mountain man scolds his old dog .. who obviously is his best friend.
Duration8 - 10 minutes
- 1 Male
Product Id: #556
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An excerpt …
Hee-Yah! (a yell)
Hey You! Hey, you no-good Mountain Dog!
Where you hidin’ now from me, you low-count, no-good Mountain Dog!
Get out from under there and, no, I ain’t got gravy now ...
It’s time we chatted, you and me, and maybe set things straight somehow.
Then you growed up ... don’t growl at me! ... and thought you’s quite a dog!
You found yourself a doggie-gal ... Hey, look at me, you Mountain Dog!
You chased that bitch ‘cross fifteen miles of hallows, hills, and hollers.
You ran off seven years of fat and lost your brand new collar.
You remember now, you cur? You low-downed mangy thing?
That strike a memory in your head, you no-good, flop-eared, Mountain Dog?
You stink-faced, slack-skinned, long-tailed heathen!
Pea-brained cousin of a skunk and uncle to a buzzard!
Well ... come inside ... Don’t stand out there ... It looks like rain’s a-comin’.
There’s nothin’ smells like wet hound dog ... Let’s go and have some supper.
Yeh ... you eat first ... you always do ... Never could just wait.
If I was less man than I am, I’d have you on my plate.
Yeh ... whimper ... yeh, I hear ya. Go on and make your sound.
(under his breath)
You no-good, flop-eared, one-eyed thief ...You sorry Mountain Hound.
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