Stop Thief, from the Chatterbox
UT yesterday he came, a small
And lively pup—his cheerful face
So innocent, that one and all
Believed him best of all his race.
He crept beneath a chair—'to sleep,'
I thought; 'poor tired little love,'
Quoth I, and quickly stooped to peep—
And caught him chewing up my glove!
Since then he's worried all our mats,
Upset the milk and smashed a cup;
He's chased for miles one neighbour's cats,
And nearly killed another's pup.
Three stockings and a pair of mits
He dragged through all the muddy street;
Besides a muff that lies in bits—
Except the parts I saw him eat.
And now the butcher has been down
To say our puppy is a thief,
Who visited his shop in town,
And ran off with a joint of beef.
Yet here he sits and wags his tail,
With goodness written on his face—
A little dog that could not fail
To be the best of all his race.