The Mangy Dog

I saw the world through the eyes of a dog
And the world that I did see
Was a forest of legs whose moving roots
Were forever kicking me.

I cringed from a myriad flailing sticks
A shower of rocks and stones,
And no one or nothing compensated,
Not even my buried bones.

I hid from the man with the net and the gun
The boy with the old tin can,
And summed up my life in the single phrase
"The mangy black mongrel ran!"

I craved for deliverance, some hopeful sign
That mankind would leave me alone,
But my practical bitch-wife said "No hope
Man even preys on his own!"