dachshund House of Words wooden menu frame


And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
- W. B. Yeats: The Second Coming

Bred to burrow after badgers,
what's a dachshund doing here?

Terrorizing underwear
behind my couch.

Is he a true hund,
or just a pan-fried sausage
with a Bluto chest?

I wonder what they called him
back then, in the Black Forest,
during a fox hunt,
when dogs were dogs.

Tracker? Hunter?
I don't think so.
Try: Baron Von Putt-Putt Tootsie Roll.

I'm Scot myself.
My people once sacked York.

No, this isn't York.
It's Plano, Texas.

But don't think a Dachshund and a Scot
can't sack Dallas from here.

Until then, we play our deadly game:
What rough weiner slouches toward my underwear?

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