Barks the feral canine brings—
Horrid hue from Lu[cifer]-born thing.
Peace, a dearth, this cur be wild;
Dog and owner, pests reviled.
Noise-full squall, his baying cries;
Joy I’ll find in his demise—
Flip arsenic o’er fence frame. . .
Die in morn. . .nixed bestial [may]hem.
Barks the feral canine brings—
Horrid hue from Lu-borne thing.

Might not work. . .could rend with sword—
Might be hard to slash, get gored.
Slaying time one day will come:
Off him. . .what’s the cur-bring doom?
Nail this pest, a dog dead see,
Hail the state of dog-bit-free.
’cease the mutt, this pest from hell—
Keeps us from sleep. . .banshee yell.
Harm the feral canine brings;
Horrid chews from Lu-borne thing.

Hail the hellish din’s surcease,
Nail with gun? Might bring police.
Lice and bites his maulings bring. . .
Riddled with weals post-his brawling.
Wildly bays his horrid cries;
Born of dam, a whore that lies
With demons below the earth. . . .
Borne to surface. . .dev’lish birth.
Parts from hell, felled-angel’s thing.
Cur is due a reckoning.

Some desire this baying?! Some
Fix not mutts—Yikes! More will come.
Guys and women pay no heed
To their mutts, a cur-rent dread.
They display slight gray-mat’ power,
Ruin neighborhoods each hour.
Bow-wowin they don’t enjoin,
Bites countenanced. . .bent on destroyin’
Barkers, feral, dang’rous things.
Sorrow to this chew-bone thing.

Damn! His biting scores my face. . .
Stamp him out—my bane erase.
Sic on him my cousin Tom
Who will face him with aplomb.
Tom has a leonine mane
He’s half lion—that explains
How he’ll tear this mutt apart.
Motto ain’t “Art for sake of art.”*
Barks don’t herald wakenings.
Gory dude, the mew-roar king.


*The MGM lion logo features the Latin phrase Ars Gratia Artis (Art for Art’s Sake)