An Acquantince Poem by John Molloy

There's a crazy dog on my road
and he doesn't have a name,
He doesn't have a collar
and he seems to be insane.
He never heeds an open door
and no one calls him home,
I think he must have lived here once
but now he's all alone.
He's a scruffy, noisy, mangy mutt
who thinks himself Lord Muck,
That lives on scraps from God knows where
and a hell of a lot of luck.
I sort of kind of like him now
but I'd never let him know
As he seems to get along alright
in his life of listless woe.