Meeting Henry / by Michael Elwick

By | April 28, 2021
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Now  Henry is a long dog

A strong dog

A spotty dog

A black white and brown dog

With long floppy ears.

 

Now Henry is a Bassett Hound

A whatit hound?

A Bassett Hound

A big strong Bassett Hound

With big brown eyes.

 

But Henry had a stringy tail

A piggy tail

A silly tail

A tie-yourself-in-knots tail

With a little white tip.

 

Now Henry went a-wandering

On his short stubby legs

His silly legs

His pudded legs

With great big paws.

 

Now down the stairs went Henry

And through the big front door

And out the gate

Along the street

What had the world in store?

 

He came upon a little dog

A furry dog

A wurry dog

A run around and scurry dog

With not much tail.

 

Now Henry is a proud dog

Not a loud dog

A proud dog

Not a run-around-and-howl dog

that chased its own tail.

 

“Good morning, little silly dog

Oh willy dog

Oh silly dog

Oh must you run around and round

And chase your own tail?”

 

So Henry took a look at him

And passed that doggy by

That  silly dog

That wurry dog

That chased his short tail.

 

Now Henry went along the road

And saw  a big oak tree

He sniffed at it

He whiffed at it

But none had been there but he.

 

So on he walked and padded

A bus stop for to find

As bold as Bassett

A bus to Richmond Town.

 

The bus at length it came

The number bold and clear

And when it stopped

Yes, then it stopped

To Henry the way was clear.

 

One stubby paw was  just about

To place itself aboard

When “ring-ding

Ring-a-ding.”  “Hold tight

No dogs aboard this fight.”

 

So Henry stood as doggies do

And wondered how his scrape

Would end itself

Or lend itself

To further his escape.

 

Along the road I walked that day

And I saw Henry there

A puzzled dog

A wuzzled dog

That could only sit and stare.

 

“Good afternoon,” I said to him

But he did not reply

“Oh come,” I said

“And we will walk

Alone, just you and I”

 

And so along the road we walked

And he came home to tea,

Of little cakes

And biscuit crumbs,

That’s how we filled our little tums.

 

Alas, poor Henry was not mine

For he had run away.

At eight o’clock

His mistress came

And took him safe away.

 

Now Henry, he will come to stay

Just for a summer day

Have cakes and crumbs

And wag his tail

Just like that other sunny day. 

 

 

 

**********   Michael Elwick,  Barnes 1964

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