Poem Hunter
Our Pudsy
(1848-1920 / )

Our Pudsy

Poem By Francis Duggan

As a boy I used to take her hunting in Matty Owens bog
Old Pudsy our dark brown family and cattle dog
And to many a hare in her prime she gave chase
But she never did catch one her they did outpace

She was useless as a guard dog why otherwise pretend
Since Pudsy only wished to be everyone's friend
And though with other dogs she never did pick a fight
Any dog who attacked her she put to flight

She was muscular and hairy and so big and strong
Any dog fight she was in did not last long
And most of the neighbourhood dogs learned in the hard way
That to mess with Pudsy there was some price to pay

Tests of courage in her prime Pudsy never did fail
She often left the big angry Friesian bull with a bloodied tail
One animal all of the people in the neighbourhood did fear
But that he realized Pudsy was his boss was obviously clear

The best words to describe her was strong, healthy and tough
She never slept indoors she always slept rough
She slept in the backyard even when she was old
And never sought shelter from the wet and the cold

She was not a bad dog for to give her what was her due
Until her death as a friend she remained ever true
Our Pudsy our faithful and hairy dark brown
When we were younger west of Millstreet Town.

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