No, naughty Growler, get away,
You shall not have a bit;
Now when I speak, how dare you stay?
I can't spare any, Sir, I say,
And so you need not sit.
Poor Growler! do not make him go,
But recollect, before,
That he has never served you so,
For you have given him many a blow,
That patiently he bore.
Poor growler! if he could but speak,
He'd tell (as well as he might)
How he would bear with many a freak,
And wag his tail, and look so meek,
And neither bark nor bite.
Upon his back he lets you ride,
All round and round the yard;
And now, while sitting by your side,
To have a bit of bread denied,
Is really very hard.
And all your little tricks he'll bear,
And never seem to mind;
And yet you say you cannot spare
One bit of breakfast for his share,
Although he is so kind.