Ground Round

I browned a pound of ground round, A hound came ‘round and downed it; I checked the pound; he’s not around. He’s bound to be found, safe and sound. They clowned around, gowned and crowned, expounding on things quite profound. They walked the grounds; they strode the mound. They found the hound; he’s safe and sound. The people frowned; they gathered ‘round, and wound and wound around that mound. The sound was drowned; they tiptoed ‘round the hound they found, the one who’d downed the pound of ground, so nicely browned. Remember? That hound!