<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"></SPAN></p>
<h2> THE BENCH-LEGGED FYCE </h2>
<p>Speakin' of dorgs, my bench-legged fyce<br/>
Hed most o' the virtues, an' nary a vice.<br/>
Some folks called him Sooner, a name that arose<br/>
From his predisposition to chronic repose;<br/>
But, rouse his ambition, he couldn't be beat—<br/>
Yer bet yer he got thar on all his four feet!<br/>
Mos' dorgs hez some forte—like huntin' an' such,<br/>
But the sports o' the field didn't bother him much;<br/>
Wuz just a plain dorg, an' contented to be<br/>
On peaceable terms with the neighbors an' me;<br/>
Used to fiddle an' squirm, and grunt "Oh, how nice!"<br/>
When I tickled the back of that bench-legged fyce!<br/>
He wuz long in the bar'l, like a fyce oughter be;<br/>
His color wuz yaller as ever you see;<br/>
His tail, curlin' upward, wuz long, loose, an' slim—<br/>
When he didn't wag it, why, the tail it wagged him!<br/>
His legs wuz so crooked, my bench-legged pup<br/>
Wuz as tall settin' down as he wuz standin' up!<br/>
He'd lie by the stove of a night an' regret<br/>
The various vittles an' things he had et;<br/>
When a stranger, most likely a tramp, come along,<br/>
He'd lift up his voice in significant song—<br/>
You wondered, by gum! how there ever wuz space<br/>
In that bosom o' his'n to hold so much bass!<br/>
Of daytimes he'd sneak to the road an' lie down,<br/>
An' tackle the country dorgs comin' to town;<br/>
By common consent he wuz boss in St. Joe,<br/>
For what he took hold of he never let go!<br/>
An' a dude that come courtin' our girl left a slice<br/>
Of his white flannel suit with our bench-legged fyce!<br/>
He wuz good to us kids—when we pulled at his fur<br/>
Or twisted his tail he would never demur;<br/>
He seemed to enjoy all our play an' our chaff,<br/>
For his tongue 'u'd hang out an' he'd laff an' he'd laff;<br/>
An' once, when the Hobart boy fell through the ice,<br/>
He wuz drug clean ashore by that bench-legged fyce!<br/>
We all hev our choice, an' you, like the rest,<br/>
Allow that the dorg which you've got is the best;<br/>
I wouldn't give much for the boy 'at grows up<br/>
With no friendship subsistin' 'tween him an' a pup!<br/>
When a fellow gits old—I tell you it's nice<br/>
To think of his youth and his bench-legged fyce!<br/>
To think of the springtime 'way back in St. Joe—<br/>
Of the peach-trees abloom an' the daisies ablow;<br/>
To think of the play in the medder an' grove,<br/>
When little legs wrassled an' little han's strove;<br/>
To think of the loyalty, valor, an' truth<br/>
Of the friendships that hallow the season of youth!<br/></p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />
1 of 2
2 of 2
Previous
Next
Update Required
To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.