Pete The Piddling Pup – Jo Anderson, circa 1750
A farmer’s dog came into town,
His christian name was Pete.
A noble pedigree he had,
To see him was a treat.
And as he trotted down the street
‘Twas beautiful to see
His work on every corner,
His work on every tree.
He watered every gateway too,
And never missed a post,
For piddling was his specialty
And piddling was his boast.
The city curs looked on, amazed,
With deep and jealous rage
To see a simple country dog
The piddler of the age!
Then all the dogs from everywhere
Were summoned with a yell
To sniff the country stranger o’er
And judge him by the smell.
Some thought that he a king might be,
Beneath his tail, a rose.
So every dog drew near to him
And sniffed him by the nose.
They smelled him over one by one,
They smelled him two by two;
But noble Pete, in high disdain,
Stood still till they were through.
Then, just to show the whole shebang
He didn’t give a damn
He trotted in a grocer’s shop
And piddled on a ham.
He piddled in a mackerel keg.
He piddled on the floor.
And when the grocer kicked him out
He piddled through the door.
Behind him all the city dogs
Lined up with instinct true
To start a piddling carnival
And see the stranger through.
They showed him every piddling post
They had in all the town,
And started in, with many a wink,
To pee the stranger down.
They sent for champion piddlers
Who were always on the go
And who sometimes gave a piddling stunt
Or gave a piddling show.
They sprung these on him suddenly
When midway through the town.
Pete only smiled, and piddled off
The ablest, white or brown.
For he was with them, every trick,
With vigour and with vim.
A thousand piddles, more or less,
Were all the same to him.
So he was wetting merrily
With hind leg kicking high
When most were hoisting legs in bluff
And piddling mighty dry.
On and on, Pete sought new grounds
By piles of scrap and rust
Till every city dog ran dry
And only piddled dust.
Still on and on went noble Pete
As wet as any rill
When all the champion city dogs
Had come to a standstill.
Then Pete did free-hand piddling
With fancy flirts and flips
Like the ‘double dip’ and ‘gimlet twist’
And all the latest hits.
And all the time the country dog
Did never wink or grin
But blithely piddled out of town
As he had piddled in.
The city dogs a convention held
To ask, “What did defeat us?”
But no one ever put them wise
That Pete had diabetes!
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