In a town called Grimsby
Lived a man with his boots.
Sometimes he wore blue jeans
And sometimes wore suits.
From an old sweaty sweatshirt
To starched shirt with tie
His beard was all trimmed
When he caught 'The Saint's' eye.
She was lookin' him up
And lookin' him down
Whatever she saw there?
Was a mystery about town.
With pocket protectors
He looked like a Nerd.
And his plastic (taped) glasses
Were totally absurd.
His socks sometimes tattered
Oft not a pair
Hiding under those boots
Unseen without care.
He sold her a puppy,
(Golden Retriever by breed)
She loved that dear puppy,
So he'd planted the seed!
Her love of puppies
And whelping and things
Soon begat more love
And exchanging of rings!
'The farm' ever changed
Expanded and grew
From apples to horses
Sheep; ducklings too!
'I moved here to kennel'
His frequent lament
As the foals and lambs
Learned their mother's own scent.
An orphaned lamb 'Lucky'
The winter she spent
Bottled fed in the farm kitchen
A 'Saint' type event!
'Course puppies had been there
More than a few,
'So why not a lamb, Dear? '
'We're loving her too! '
Their love of their dogs
It grew and it grew.
And grandchildren learned
To whisper, cuddle and coo!
The visitors and family
Learned how to handle and groom.
And they all cherished dogs
From the womb to the tomb.
In a town called Grimsby
Lived a man with his boots.
And his LOVE with 'The Saint' started,
From Golden dog roots!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem