There was a man who lived in the Thirties.
He claimed he had lost all he had to attorneys
due to a bitter fight with a long gone ex
who caught him chasing women and having ***.
He had to hightail it outta town overnight.
Figured it was that or to stick around and fight.

So he rode the rails from town to town,
never staying long enough to settle down.
He was what they used to call back then, a hobo.
Not quite a *** but certainly low brow.

It was a hot summer's day down in San Berdoo
(that’s San Bernadino to you)
He walked down a backstreet,  just one of a few
like others with packs on their backs
looking for work - maybe hire on with a road crew.

He spotted a pug-nosed, three-legged dog
that tailed him for at least two blocks.
A curious little thing that shuffled when it walked.
Thinking it was lost or far from its home,
the owner not aware it might have been gone,
he filled a pan of water for the dog to drink.
It gave him pause to stop and think.

What was the story of this deformed pup ?
How had it lost its leg and wound up
roaming the streets scavenging for a bite to eat ?
Just about then, the man thought he heard a voice
come out from that pug-nose's throat.
"I’ve got a secret to share", it said, more like a boast.
The man could not believe his ears.
A talking dog, he thought.
I’m done for....I’m toast !