Sunday, June 05, 2005

The Indian Dog

Beside every house and every hut
In India there’s always a mangy mutt.
It barks at everything that walks by
Even at the bird up in the sky

There are many such dogs on the road
They bark so much they can’t be ignored.
They chase and mate each other all the time
Male or female, it’s all just fine.

They live in abject poverty
But at least, from the pound they’re free.
They’re always treated with the stick and the stone
People like to make sure they’re gone.

When you try to catch a night of sleep
They make a racket on the street
All night, they bark and bark
Making it impossible to walk in the dark.

When you walk in a secluded spot
They give you all they’ve got.
They show you their teeth and growl.
It all feels so completely foul.

If you to eat as you walk,
You, million dogs will stalk!
What you eat, they can smell.
It’s like ringing a dinner bell.

And when there’s nothing to eat;
No milk and certainly no meat,
Dogs starve and their ribs show.
They look like monsters in a movie show.

In the winters rather than freeze to death
They curl into tight little balls instead.
In the rain they soak it all up
And people say “Oh that poor little pup!”

If you think the lives of dogs are sad.
Most people of India aren’t even half as glad.
They live in huts, the soak in the rain,
And summers and winters just drive them insane.

They suffer from the authorities
Police beat them up whenever they please.
There’s no water for them to drink
No food to eat, to write no ink.

Human life in unfortunate India does so much stink,
That only of dogs do I prefer to think.

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