by ellen braeckman
black and white with a touch of rust
these are the colours of the one i trust
who's always there no matter what
to lift me up when i'm in a rut
she cannot speak,what does it matter
who want's to listen to idle chatter?
whit a woof,a whimper sometimes a snort
she makes me laugh when my temper's short
ready to play at any time
when the goins touch up into my lap she'll climb
to lick my troubles of my face
and in my heart she has got first place
her happines takes nothing more
than to lead her with me out of the door
to walk upon a shaded wooden trail
is her reward it never fails
no one loves her more than me
no one loves me more than she
and when i'm down and when i'm glum
she is my pal,my friend,my chum!