“Pups” with tails not waggin’ lit into me.
They wanted that I should get bit on the gams, and viciously.
Nipping at my nates: province of these pups.
Ligament strings they’d like for snacks; they’d gobble them right up.

Pups with tails not waggin’…don’t like to see.
Your haunches may get badly bit, and you’ll scream out horribly.
Pups with tails not waggin’…traipse cautiously—
when walkin’ you just might get ripped, if when you stroll you’re carefree.

Untethered, they will wander, and a throat they would impale.
Gashing cheeks, eyes, and snout; these pups love to assail.
Molars slit in pieces a brow, into the brain.
Dermal strips may make them gag; these pups still won’t refrain.

Pups with tails not waggin’ aren’t like kitties
that wallow in narcissism; they’re aloof as they can be.
But they won’t be grabbin’ you viciously,
and indifference is their shtik—in that sense, not like doggies.

Tails waggin’ means they’re friendly, and likely they’ll enjoy
engaging in stick chasing; such play is canine joy.
But if tails aren’t racing, fangs like razors rend and score,
and pups that might be slashin’ get ready for that chore.

They’ll head toward you to harrow knees and cause great pain.
Pups like this don’t mean to play; they do more than cause sprains.
Without your life you’ll end up in an early grave.
See pups with tails not waggin’, dash inside, yourself to save.

Pups with tails not waggin’ bit randomly.
I wanted that they should get hit with a cap, terminally.
Pup with tail not waggin’ came after me.
I wanted that it should get hit; Smith accommodated me.