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McCoy
McCoy is a boy,
he doesn't annoy
as he is my pet.
Let's have a bet
he is not fat.
He looks so stout
without any doubt
because of his hair,
it looks so fair,
it's white like snow,
it quickly grow
for me to make a pillow.
I love him so much;
his gentle touch
makes me smile,
it's just his style
to ask for a walk.
That's his way to talk.
When we go out
he becomes a scout,
he wants to know all
though he is small.
He is so curious,
he is never furious.
He likes to be warmed,
he likes to be combed,
he doesn't like to be washed,
and certainly to be bossed.
My home is never empty,
he always waits for me,
when I come back he shows
how much he missed me;
he wags his tail,
that's his way to hail;
he looks into my eyes,
he wants to get a prize.
I will never offend
my devoted friend.
poem
by
Larisa Rzhepishevska
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