My job’s to take dogs for a jog,
but sometimes it’s mostly a slog ~
they give me a run for my money
on the grass when it’s sunny,
but it’s a pain when it happens to rain ~
I’d like to refrain and not do it again.
Although I would hate to see
all those dogs waiting patiently
for their chance to have fun
when they go for a run ~
their tails all start wagging
at the prospect of dragging
me ’round and ’round at the park.
They grinningly think it’s a lark ~
they jump up and down as they bark,
and yap with joy when I toss a toy.
I love them all very much;
their sleek coats are so nice to touch,
unless they roll in the mud
like that naughty sheepdog, Bud.
Roxy the foxy, and Daniel the spaniel,
both tug at the lead, wanting more speed;
plus that mad Lab, Brad, is always so glad
to be out running happy and free
as he drags along little old me.
There’s Meg, the mutt bitch (her fleas make me itch),
and frankfurter Fritz (he’s so full of shitz),
plus Pam, the poodle, with oodles of charm ~
but she nearly pulled my poor arm
out of its loose socket
as she dashed like a rocket.
Now I’m walking slow ~
back home we must go.
They’re still begging for more,
but I’m slumped on the floor.
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Writing Prompt |
Write a humorous poem about your job. It can be any job, but it has to rhyme. |
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