A big black dog came onto my lawn, He barked, he stretched and then a yawn, Running round and round in a fit: Stopped in mid circle and started to shit. My first reaction was to frighten the hound, Before its faeces were lain in a mound. But instead took the shotgun I kept in the shed, And with a smile on my face, blew off its head. Why such injustice, why odium so great ? What justification could I frankly relate ? But answer me this could this tale be amended, If control had been exercised by the man he befriended ?