My Old Coonhound - A Poem

[Based on "Sweet Georgia Brown". The large male biped has always wanted a bluetick coonhound. A noble breed, though not a beagle, of course. Still, one likes to be broadminded, so get out that Harlem Globetrotter soundtrack and sing along.]

No dog made can make the grade like my ol’ coonhound.
Got four feet as big as Crete, my ol’ coonhound.
Hunters sigh and start to cry for my ol’ coonhound
We all know why, yeah,
You know I can’t lie. (Who me? Not much now)

Now we all know just how she’ll go when she tracks ‘em down!
Winds can blow and it could snow, but she’ll make her quarry frown.
Now all the game that hound can’t get, oh
Are species she ain’t met.
My wife named her
When we claimed her,
My ol’ coonhound

There’s no dog leaves me agog like my ol’ coonhound
Love her howl and floppy jowl, my ol’ coonhound
One loud bay can make my day, my ol’ coonhound
I love that dog, oh
Leaves me in a fog. (You know, I can’t lie.)

Now when she sleeps, she snores so deep, that she make a wind.
Curtains flap, and structures snap, the walls bulge and distend.
Now all the sounds, that gal can make, oh
Any silence, she can slake.
She’s got sad eyes.
Make her look wise.
My ol’ coonhound.

No dog here could be a dear like my ol’ coonhound.
Every cat just leaves my flat, my ol’ coonhound.
Nothing beats her howling greet, my ol’ coonhound
I love that pup, yeah
She makes me say yup (she asks, she gets it)

Now this here hound, she does astound, when folks see her wag.
This old gal is my best pal, I can’t help but brag.
The love she give our family, oh
Really is a sight to see.
Her name’s Sadie,
Sic Tom Brady!
My ol’ coonhound