Glued to the kerbstone, staring.
Frozen at the stop-sign too.
See that crazy suicide mongrel.
He's going to try to cross that avenue.
Old dog of experience,
Ripping through the black and yellow cabs,
Dodging rickshaws and the bicycle boys.
He's got his mind on someone else's dinner -
Over the road, round the corner, out of the noise.
Lives down in some cool, cool basement -
Sharing with a family of bounce, ratty little guys.
Work to a discipline of ritual undertakings -
Sleep, eat and gentle exercise.
Old dog of experience,
Ripping through the black and yellow cabs,
Dodging rickshaws and the bicycle boys.
He's got his mind round someone else's dinner -
Over the road, round the corner, out of the noise.
Some towns I know, he could end up in a restaurant -
Wrong side of a table for two.
It's enough to send him running, running for cover.
Back in the traffic, what's a poor dog to do ?
Old mutt of experience,
Ripping through the black and yellow cabs,
Dodging rickshaws and the bicycle boys.
Now he's got his mind round someone else's dinner -
Over the road, round the corner, out of the noise.
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