To a Lady with an Unruly and Ill-mannered Dog Who Bit several Persons of Importance

Your dog is not a dog of grace; He does not wag the tail or beg; He bit Miss Dickson in the face; He bit a Bailie in the leg.

What tragic choices such a dog Presents to visitor or friend! Outside there is the Glasgow fog; Within, a hydrophobic end.

Yet some relief even terror brings, For when our life is cold and gray We waste our strength on little things, And fret our puny souls away.

A snarl! A scruffle round the room! A sense that Death is drawing near! And human creatures reassume The elemental robe of fear.

So when my colleague makes his moan Of careless cooks, and warts, and debt, -- Enlarge his views, restore his tone, And introduce him to your Pet!

Quod Raleigh.