Denominated Dog
Old Danny who lived on the outskirts of town
in a shack made of iron and very run down,
was tarnished poor sod,
by one man of God,
who when speaking to Danny always put on a frown.
The Parish Priest had what I’d say was a lust,
for he’d tell his congregation that it is a must,
to be generous with offer,
for the church coffer,
and one look at Danny, said he don’t own a crust.
Danny poor soul met the Priest and he cried
while he carried his dog, who once ran by his side,
and now dead as a dodo,
Danny wants to know,
if the Priest could say mass for his old mate who died.
“Good heavens my son!” the Priest looked upon Dan,
“This church only holds service, for woman and man,
but for beasts you may try,
when ever they die,
the new church up the road for an animal plan.”
Dan said, “Thank you father, you’ve been a good scout.
You helping my dog will help its soul no doubt…
for the service they make,
do you think they’ll take,
five thousand dollars, so to help their church out?”
The Priest cleared his throat and his eyes they extend,
then he said, “Wait a minute! Some rules I can bend,
bring your dog and I’ll pray,
for you neglected to say,
that your dog was a Catholic my friend!”
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