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.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem