I vow I believe there’s no life in his hide,
It looks just as if it were tanned.
His blood is so thin that he never is warm,
And keenly he feels the cold weather;
He shivering stands with tail end to the storm,
And his four feet all huddled together.
He suffers sad woe, as his body doth show,
His face bears a hopeless expression;
He seems to be wondering why he’s a foe,
Who never commits a transgression.