Anderson John I. War Dog's of the World War

New York: 1919. — 32 p.I have no dog, but it must be Somewhere there’s one belongs to me — A little chap with wagging tail, And dark brown eyes that never quail, But look you through, and through, and through, With love unspeakable, but true. Somewhere it must be, I opine, There is a little dog of mine With cold black nose that sniffs around In search of what things may be found In pocket or some nook hard by, Where I have hid them from his eye. Somewhere my doggie pulls and tugs The fringes of rebellious rugs, Or with the mischief of the pup Chews all my shoes and slippers up, And when he’s done it to the core