This dog shall not have it's day

The tale of the weak

Bolster your heart with iron grit,

For the world comes down hard on it.

Take heed to words so wise that warn

And tell of Man's unkindly deed.



A passion He has to reign supreme.

We that stand so humbly aside

Are crushed to ground by His mighty hand:

A foundation we form for him.



The strong shall win the bard did write;

A man of science did rule recite

Of survival and crushing ways:

A cue for our modest exit.



So what of us: the reviled dogs?

Labourers of fate so unfair

Shall our day never see light?

For in darkness lies are stony grave.