To a Lady with an Unruly and Ill-mannered Dog Who Bit several Persons of Importance

Your dog is not a dog of grace;

He does not wag the tail or beg;

He bit Miss Dickson in the face;

He bit a Bailie in the leg.

What tragic choices such a dog

Presents to visitor or friend!

Outside there is the Glasgow fog;

Within, a hydrophobic end.

Yet some relief even terror brings,

For when our life is cold and gray

We waste our strength on little things,

And fret our puny souls away.

A snarl! A scruffle round the room!

A sense that Death is drawing near!

And human creatures reassume

The elemental robe of fear.

So when my colleague makes his moan

Of careless cooks, and warts, and debt,

-- Enlarge his views, restore his tone,

And introduce him to your Pet!

Quod Raleigh.