BEASTLY TALES

HOT DAWG

His nostril hairs alert for olfactory sense,
Analysing, classifying, categorising immense,
Cataloguing the final analysis in his brain,
There he goes, sniffing the air again!
Breathing deeply he detected a further odour,
Could it be fast food, he would go down the road there.

What was it? Yes a Weener stand,
Frankfurters boiling in a liquid not bland.
For a dollar, or two, one could partake of a bun,
Stuffed with weener, sauces, all very well done!
And there’s the stand, a giant weener painted red.
With an overlarge attendant, a dirty cap on his head.

What are you cooking, in this steamy fog?
“I is cooking de weeney for a hot dog!”
Had that overlarge vendor been eating the profit?
Had his beady eye on the delicacy caused him to scoff it?
As customers asked him to taste his ware,
He lifted lids on compartments, searching for what was not there.
“I is so sorry to be out of any stock,”
“I knows this will come as a real shock!”
“You will all have to go, seek another vendor.”
“As for me, I is off, to go on a bender!”

And so, he now took what little money he’d made,
To spend it real fast, to give support to the liquor trade.
“I likes to have a drink at sundown,”
“Income from this business, even if rundown!”