An Elegy On The Death Of A Mad Dog - Poem by Oliver Goldsmith
Good people all, of every sort, Give ear unto my song; And if you find it wondrous short, It cannot hold you long.
In Islington there was a man Of whom the world might say, That still a godly race he ran— When ever he went to pray.
A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes; The naked every day he clad— When he put on his clothes.
And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree.
This dog and man at first were friends; But when a pique began, The dog, to gain some private ends, Went mad, and bit the man. Around from all the neighbouring streets The wond'ring neighbours ran, And swore the dog had lost its wits To bite so good a man.
The wound it seemed both sore and sad To every Christian eye; And while they swore the dog was mad, They swore the man would die.
But soon a wonder came to light That showed the rogues they lied,— The man recovered of the bite, The dog it was that died!
"Hello folks. May I confess something to you? Those people that ride on those electric scooters, I dislike them. I really, really dislike them, both the humans who ride them, and, the scooters themselves. There I am, trotting down the sidewalk with one of my beloved humans, and they come rushing toward us, forcing us off the concrete. Like I am supposed to forget that they are not supposed to be on the sidewalks, that they are supposed to wear helmets, and that there is no riding double? Do they care? No, they do not. Noow, I don’t mind moving off the sidewalk. I mean, where else am I going to take a healthy piss or squeeze out a decent loaf? But I’m concerned for my humans who are intensely focused on me, and could become injured when one of these jokers suddenly appears on the sidewalk, without a helmet, riding in tandem, and crashes into them, causing a huge eruption of blood, and delaying my supper. Don’t let this get around, but I try to pee and crap on the scooters. At first, I tried biting the exposed wires, but that darn plastic coating tastes worse than cat food. Have I ever told you how much I dislike Friskies? No. I just urinate and defecate on the scooters. That’s what I do. That’ll teach them a lesson. That’s what I believe. Go Dalmatians."
"Hello folks. Let me get right down to the point. I need more chicken. I love you guys. You treat me with a lotta love and respect. I just want more fucking chicken."
