It was the middle of winter and awfully bleak,
The water was frozen, in pond and creek.
The snow was deep, frigid and white,
As the little pup suffered alone in the night.
He had been thrown from a big shining car,
Had landed in a ditch, with a bonebreaking jar.
The car sped away, was soon out of sight,
Leaving the broken legged puppy, in a terrible plight.
He whimpered and moaned, and howled with pain
But there was no kind soul, to hear him complain.
Many cars sped by, carrying the poor and the rich,
But the pup wasn’t noticed, down there in the ditch.
The night grew colder, down to thirty below.
The pup still lay there, nearly buried in the snow.
He just had to endure, the pain in his leg,
It did not good, to whimper and beg.
He finally got drowsy, and dropped off to sleep.
The bright winking stars, did their vigilance keep.
Soon there was no sign, of heartbeat or breath,
The poor little pup, was frozen to death.
The lad who drove that shining limousine,
Was rich, lived alone, and dressed like a queen.
She loved to parade, in her diamonds and furs,
But had no time, for children or “curs”.
She spent most of her time, at card parties and clubs,
Was not a bit stingy, with her snobbery and snubs.
Yet she who had left, that pup in the lurch.
Was also a member, of her towns’ “richest” church.
On Sundays she would sit, a pious look on her face,
Her clothes the finest, to be seen in the place.
Diamonds flashed on her hands, pearls encircled her neck,
In the collection box she always dropped a fat check.
She thinks her money, will be Heavens’ passport.
I can just her ‘St. Peter’, give a disgusted snort,
As he says, “Remember that puppy, and the ditch where he fell?
Your money is no good here, take it with you to Hell!”
When she arrives, in the ‘infernal regions’,
She won’t fry alone, she’ll be among the legions,
Who lost their chance, of angels to see,
By mistreating dumb animals, that’s the final decree.
KB, 1968, Scribblings from a Hermits Pen
Why haven’t you posted “Old Rag’s”.
Do you need more photos of my Great Uncle?
Kenneth was a great man, good spirited right up to his end.
Many memories of him at the old Jack Howes place in Paradise to the photo you have of him up Lynch Cr. Plains.
One of the best times I remember was seeing him after they took his second leg due to diabetes. With a firm grip as usual.. I asked him how things were going? His reply was, “Now that I’ve lost my legs its a lot easier to wipe my Butt by just sliding off the toilet.” 🙂
He had a pet spider at the Howes place, I watched him feed it for over a year[s]. Finally it got so big and heavy it dropped with a big splat.
Keith
I’m not sure I have “Old Rags” but would love to add it. I’d also love more photos if you have them. Thanks and thanks for posting your story 🙂