Listen to this, Rover, my hound!
This passes expectation!
A "Lady Guide," who'll trot you round
For scant remuneration!
When pain and anguish wring my brow
Because I'm doomed to hark
To your "Why-not-go-out?" bow-wow,
She'll take you to the Park!
Cometh this ministering sprite,
Smiling upon us meekly,