Mother doesn't want a dog. Mother says they smell, And never sit when you say sit, Or even when you yell. And when you come home late at night And there is ice and snow, You have to go back out because The dumb dog has to go. Mother doesn't want a dog. Mother says they shed, And always let the strangers in And bark at friends instead, And do disgraceful things on rugs, And track mud on the floor, And flop upon your bed at night And snore their doggy snore. Mother doesn't want a dog. She's making a mistake. Because, more than a dog, I think She will not want this snake.
From If I Were in Charge of the World and Other Worries . . ., published by Macmillan, 1981. Used with permission.