Friday, May 26, 2006

The Midnight Bark of Elsa, My Dear

With my apologies to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight bark of Elsa, my dear.
When the witching hour’s shadow grows long
Elsa begins her howling song
And it doesn’t take long for my blood to boil
As my good night’s sleep is so soon to spoil

She’s but a dog, with gangly legs and all ears
We bought her from a breeder, it’s been nearly four years
We’ve had our share of problems and strife
And not a day goes by that I don’t blame my wife
For it was her idea to bring the young flea bag home
Though our backyard was too small for her to roam

Finally we moved to a large house and nice big yard
The grass lot and hill’s all hers, almost too much to guard
While she protects her property, each night I’m in bed
The barking begins, so much I wish her quite dead.
She’s only doing her job, or so she may think
Felines roam the fences, she smells their cat stink.

I throw open the window and shout down below
“Shut up you mutt or your blood will soon flow.”
She answers with a woof, a growl and a bark
She’s mocking my authority, hiding out in the dark
The stairs I descend, taking two with each stride
I grab for anything with which to tan her black hide.

She waits at the door for me to appear
With the rage I’m feeling she should cower in fear
A rolled up magazine held tight in my raised hand
Crushing in her skull is the violence I’d planned
Blood-shot eyes straining to see through the dark
Stop yelping, stop woofing, don’t whine and don’t bark

With her wide dark eyes and playful puppy-like stance
She thinks we’re still playing, let’s run and let’s dance
A simple dog smile forms where you think one wouldn’t
I can’t hit her, no kicking, no beating, I couldn’t
She’s just a dog and barking is her task.
Elsa protects the house and that’s all we can ask.

So if you’re robbing our abode in the midst of the night
Get ready for flight or one heck of a fight
Cause Elsa’s back there with teeth like a knife
She shear off your leg and you’ll beg for your life
As much as I complain and rue the day she was born
I like her around, and when she does go I’ll mourn

She barks at each midnight to warn all around
In my yard I’m the queen, my bark is my crown.
The nightly yelping to her is a more than a good deed,
And that deep husky growl is a trait of her breed
I’m happy she’s out there keeping tabs on us all night
But I wish she was quiet, at least ‘til morning’s daylight
Every night our scorned neighbors are wakened to hear
Of the midnight bark of Elsa, my dear.

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