Our Whiskey
I think of a little red dog that I knew,
Who when young was so bold and so frisky;
I think of her now as I pen these few lines,
I'm thinking of course of our whiskey.
I remember the first time I met her,
On a visit one day to my Mum's;
She went for my heels when she saw me,
And it looked like we'd never be chums.
But in time she got used to my presence,
And she treated me just like the rest;
And I, in my turn, came to love her,
Yes our whiskey was one of the best.
When the window-men called every fortnight,
She would bark, 'cause it's in a dog's blood;
She would growl as she showed all her milky-white teeth,
She'd have torn them apart if she could.
Sad to say she is no longer with us,
Whiskey's gone, yes she's ended her days;
But the memories of her that we treasure,
No passage of time can erase.
And I wonder if dogs go to heaven?
I've a sneaky suspicion they do;
And if God has his favourites among them,
Let our Whiskey be one of the few.
Written Dec 1994
poem by John Carter Brown
Added by Poetry Lover
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