A blue string bites deep into the mangy scruff
He snaps at pesky little flies in the dusty sunshine
His coat is threadbare and rough
But if he gets crumbs from here and there, he feels fine
He chases tyres on the road
And barks when urchins pull his tail
The crumbly footpath is his abode
And if you whistle, he’ll give you a wag without fail
He snaps at pesky little flies in the dusty sunshine
His coat is threadbare and rough
But if he gets crumbs from here and there, he feels fine
He chases tyres on the road
And barks when urchins pull his tail
The crumbly footpath is his abode
And if you whistle, he’ll give you a wag without fail
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