With his tail “druv” in behind, neither gentle nor yet kind
Is that hungry dog, that old dog Tray.
I hurried home one night, with a rousing appetite,
For nothing had I tasted the whole of that long day.
But Oh! how I was done—not a thing was left but bone—
All eaten by that old dog Tray.
Old dog Tray, &c.
The steaks I thought my own, had vanish’d one by one—
Those cutlets, those chops too, had all pass’d away;
Those tenderloins were gone—they each and all had flown—