Boxcars forever stalled at some siding,
weeds growing wild, no flowers strewn.
Mangy old dogs drag their carcass,
into some meager shade, just to lie.

Dreaming of better days, full bowls of food,
buckets of cool water, a master so good.
A family to love, especially little boys,
bent on mischief but, loved their dogs too.

Even, an old mangy dog has only one master,
to obey and respect, retrieve sticks and fetch.
He will even endure a battle of a bath,
to just get a touch or, a pat.

Now he is down on his luck, sleeping under boxcars,
looking for a new master, he has his choice now.
Who will he choose, the man who just has one leg,
Or, will it be the one who drinks all the booze.

He could choose the gyspy, with all the jewels,
or, the carpentar who, has all the tools.
Even the little old lady with her scarred up mutt,
would open her arms, welcome him with her heart.

Dreaming of better days, lying in the heat,
feet start moving to a differnt beat.
Remembering the rabbits, back at the farm,
He gave them a chase, but wouldn't cause harm.

Boxcars forever stalled at some siding,
tattered old newspapers scattered all around.
Empty bottles and garbage, piled up deep,
If old dogs couldn't dream, they would weep!

5/5/94