Sometimes of an evening
When we’ve been working all the day
And there’s been no time for Smitty
To walk, or run or play.
I put him in the pick-up
And we drive down to Back Lake Road
To listen to the peepers
Or watch a hopping brown-wart toad.
One night we watched a beaver
As he shoved a large black branch
Toward his log cabin abode
In his Mazzerole Lake ranch.
So many lakes and marshes
As well as ponds and brooks
Surround us on all sides
And Richard’s keen to get out hooks
And start catching our fresh fish
For supper every night
Perhaps our figures will shape up
As we try and just eat right.
But in the meantime, Smitty thinks
A dog treat is now called for
And he won’t let go of that ideal
– He’s waitin’ at the door!