I had a little puppy,
It piddled on the floor,
And every time I mopped it up,
It piddled even more.
He didn’t get the message,
I tried to teach in vain,
He didn’t give much notice,
Oops, there he goes again.
Another little puddle,
To mop up once again,
The place is in a guddle,
When will he ever learn.
I chase him round with papers,
To lead him to the door,
I have to watch his every move,
In case he leaves me more.
And just when I had given up,
On such a hopeless case,
He scampered to the door then,
Panic etched upon his face.
At last we turned the corner,
With help from God above,
And looking back I realise why,
They call this Puppy Love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very cute indeed....guddle doesnt matter.....poetic licence! :)