"And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?"
- W. B. Yeats: The Second Coming
Bred to burrow after badgers,
what's he doing here?
Terrorizing the underwear
behind my couch.
Is he a true hund,
or just a pan-fried sausage
with a Bluto chest?
I wonder what they called him
back then, in the Black Forest,
when dogs were dogs.
Try: Baron Von Putt-Putt Tootsie Roll.
I'm Scot myself.
My people once sacked York.
No, this isn't York.
It's Plano, Texas.
Don't think a Dachshund and a Scot
can't sack Dallas from here.
Until then, we play our little game:
What rough ****** slouches toward my underwear?
Our funny little Frank
— The End —