Here’s the tale of my Cocker Spaniel
The one with the big floppy ears,
And when I have finished my story
It will very soon have you in tears.
Now the first time I heard of his exploits
It made me go weak at the knee
I was told that the police had detained him
At the local constabulary.
It seems they were going to charge him
With offences, ’til now, little known.
He’d be up in court,
And it was partly my fault
For letting him out on his own.
The first charge was ‘Malice Aforethought’
Going berserk on a garage’s forecourt
And putting a mechanic
In a state of great panic
By proving he wasn’t a spoilsport.
The second charge ‘Paying Undue Attention’
Had details too embarrassing to mention.
He was apparently found
With a large Afghan Hound
That belonged to an angry young Frenchman.
The third charge was ‘Running Amok’
In the market, destroying their stock
He left very quick,
With an oil lamp and wick
And two pairs of tights and a sock.
The fourth charge ‘Resisting Arrest’
Proves he beat the Metropolitan’s best
And a policeman on mount
Gave a detailed account
How he’d ripped a big hole in his vest.
The fifth charge was at the police station
When my dog had a slight inclination
He just didn’t look,
Soaked the charge book
Then blamed it on their own Alsatian.
The day of the trial came quickly
I forget now the date it was held
But there in the dock,
Stood a dog of good stock
Like he hadn’t a care in the world.
I listened with dread
As the charges were read.
His lawyer gave up and went home.
I imagined the headlines tomorrow:
‘What happens when you let a dog roam’.
When hearing the charges against him
The dog hung his head down in shame
The judge said he meant,
That with all his intent
It would never, ever happen again.
He confined him to kennels for one month
On a diet of marrow-bone jelly.
Saying ‘I’ve reached the conclusion
You suffered illusion
From the violence you’ve seen on the telly’.
So with muzzle in place and paw-cuffs galore
They dragged him out of the courtroom door.
And his criminal record (A dog-eared file)
Now opens out for half a mile.

Ray Mond


By poetry

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