The Hound With the Pendulous Ears

With a face that's all wrinkled, resplendent with folds
And eyes that hang droopy with tears,
An expression that looks like a sad tale untold,
It's the hound with the pendulous ears.

Basking asprawl in the bright morning sun
Such repose can be matched by no peers,
Twitching with dreams of a spirited run,
It's the hound with the pendulous ears.

Just a whiff of the scent in the harness and lead,
A trail can erase any fears.
With nose to the ground like a galloping steed,
Comes the hound with the pendulous ears.

As one with the trail, the hound struggles and strains,
And bays as the lost quarry nears,
Leaping and bounding o'er any terrain,
It's the hound with the pendulous ears.

So noble in spirit and true from the start
Growing more so with passage of years,
Twas never a creature more dear to my heart
Than the hound with the pendulous ears.

-- Len Hamilton 1995
Inspired by Dunwishin's Hilda Rumpole

Dunwishin's Hilda Rumpole
01OCT1993-14MAR2005