I keep an “haute” watch on the barking kind,
I keep the home fires open, set to dine,
I keep oregano ready, and thyme.
Because they’re fine, I wok canines.

I find them very, very tasty as au jus,
I find I chase their bones. . .irony ensues,
Yes, I’ll admit that I drool when I chew.
Before I dine, I wok canines.

Some meat is mighty dark, and some is light,
I heap it on plate, salivate, and bite,
No haggis, fish can give the same delight—
Nothing ovine; I wok canines.

Sometime I will heap peas up as a side
Dish—sometimes spuds that I have lightly fried.
I used to throw sticks for them when we went outside,
But now I dine on wokked canines.

When close friends come to dine, I say it’s swine
That they are noshing, and they think it’s fine.
I’ve laced it with a knockout anodyne. . .
No more canine—I wok mankind.