The Angry Dog

The lady with the angry dog
came walking down the street.
Let me tell you that’s a mutt
you do not want to meet.

He sports a big and ugly face.
He has a pushed in nose.
That’s sure to make it hard to breathe,
as everybody knows.

Perhaps that’s why he is so mean
and always snarls at me.
Or maybe it’s his piggy eyes
that make it hard to see.

He has a patchy coat of hair,
some brown and partly white.
In all, he is a mess to see;
he’s not a pleasant sight.

I see him almost every day.
You’d think he’d know me now.
But he still growls and spits at me
like I’m a threat somehow.

I try to stay away from him,
don’t look him in the eye.
I even cross the street to pass,
don’t want to get close by
.
The lady tries to calm her dog.
She offers him a treat.
He looks at me with hungry eyes
like I’m his favorite meat.

I wonder why he is so mean.
Or is it only me?
I never bothered him at all.
What could his problem be?

Maybe he’s just old and sore
and he can’t help his mood.
Or if he doesn’t eat enough
and just sees me as food.

Or maybe he’s not mean at all.
He’s just misunderstood.
Maybe if I pet him nice
he’ll show he can be good.

Yeah, next time that I see that dog
I’ll walk right up to him.
You may not hear from me again
if he bites off a limb.

Who’s a good boy?