I'm only just a common racing dog,
Simple in habit, and my diet's plain.
I have never had a longing for the grog
That some men seem to need, more vim to gain.
And I have heard it said of such a one,
Who in his swilling emulates the hogs:
'He's boozing day and night: he's getting done.
Poor man,' they say: 'he's going to the dogs.'
But now 'tis threatened that a dog should win
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem