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