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!
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