“There was once a dog named Red,

whose farmer wished he was dead,

he beat him and kicked him,

and gave him away,

but Red had a different idea in his head.

His spirits flagged, but he packed

his few things,

and ran until ragged.

He climbed and crawled

till he got to Belfast,

and hid in in the hull

and heard the horn blast.

He groaned and moaned as the big waves

came, he was dashed back and forth

until he was lame.

When he landed ashore,

he was sick no more,

and hid in a package being sent ashore.

He arrived in Virginia and chewed his way out,

and ran along the highways until the road ran out.

When he crawled up a hill and no longer could run,

he saw a farm, the name was Thompson,

His troubles were over, he had food and sheep,

his sad memories faded, no reason to weep.

He worked and slept and cuddled and roamed,

and one day Dr. Thompson said,

“we have found the right home!”

Red was nervous at first,

the new farmer was strange,

but he had all the work they both could arrange,

and sheep out the back door and lassies galore,

who loved him dearly and cuddled on the floor.

Red loved working sheep, but knew his real task

was finding the right work for this man, and fast.

Red decided their duty they could not shirk,

it was time for them both to do therapy work.

Red’s troubles are over, his life is great fun,

His journey’s not over, it has really just begun,

this but the first of many tales to be spun.”

 

– By Me. Next: There Once Was A Helldog Named Frieda.