Tar Dog
tar dog tar dog where you be
he killing chicken like Wiley Coyote
wife yells you fetch him
for he eats more a them cookies
off I go low curse so she don't hear
dang flies he there alright
over hundred pound of black born trouble
rolling side to side can’t roll over he too fat
gut stink froth spit and feather coughs
dragging down fresh dry whites
he dances begs like some hippo in a tutu
comes up all happy yeah yeah then runs
back to tear up more chicken
white after red and black
chicken squawks and squeeze eyes pop
out the coop cracks
me happy I ain't got no chickens
next door not owning much as he figured
and the wife screams he ain’t got no license
to kill me yelling back
he don’t need no license
he county
Copyright © Mark Ackerson | Year Posted 2015
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