I’ve never met

A single pet

That made a cup of tea

Or dried the pots

Or undid knots

They’re all no use to me

I’ve seen some dogs

Dressed up in togs

Their owners think they’re funny

But could they dust?

Get rid of rust?

Or make me toast with honey?

Now most folk claim

Their cats are tame

And give them lots of pleasure

But when I’m in

And crave some gin

They can’t pour out a measure

Birds in a cage

Just rant and rave

And fly from perch to perch

So if I fell

Into a well

They’d leave me in the lurch

And terrapins

Or fish with fins

Are some folks’ preference

But are they able

To lay a table?

Of course they’re far too dense

MY dog just lies

He farts and sighs

Then blames it all on me

He wakes at four

Stands at the door

To go out for a pee

At half past six

His meat and bix

Are wolfed down greedily

I’m well aware

What’s in his stare

“What use is man to me?”