I have sorrow, because what is on
the flooring is a blight.
Just how long there has it been,
this yucky pile of canine shite?!

This rank and mucky mard
is sitting on the parquet.
Makes me gag now just to see it,
and the odor ain’t “nosegay.”

It’s a mound that reeks worse than ancient chum;
the smell overpowers me.
Guess I’d better get that mess off pried
from floor of my entry.

Vile pile’s ghastly, rank—engenders “Euw!”
makes me want to move away,
’cause there ain’t no doubt: it prompts a gag,
dog mess in the foyer.

There’s a lake of micturition;
doo-doo hill’s a stenchery.
I gotta clean this mess up. . .
mound merde and moat of pee.

If destroyed is my new rug,
I’ll spew words real outré.
Can’t abide this wretched Airedalean mard
that is standing in my way.

It’s a mound that reeks worse than ancient chum;
the smell overpowers me.
Better get that mess off ere air-dried
from floor of my entry.

Vile pile’s ghastly—rank engenders “Euw!”
makes me want to move away,
’cause there ain’t no doubt: the pong brings gags,
dog mess on the parquet.

It’s a mound that reeks worse than ancient bum;
the smell overpowers me.
Better get that mess off ere air-dried;
I’m sore as I can be!

Vile pile’s ghastly, rank—engenders “Euw!”
makes me want to go and slay
Fido. It’s worse than poop in a bag
aflame at my doorway
night before All Saints Day.