The mongrel sporting a lineage so polluted.
This half breeds son of a half breed mom
The only thing pure in him is his will
His coat is not pure the colors all wrong
Streaks of things that shouldn’t be
He’s the new kid that’s a thousand years old
His teeth are too sharp too much curl in his hair
He’ll never fit in and he doesn’t belong
But he loves in a way the pure bloods can’t
With all that he has and no reserve to be had
He’s loyal and he’s steady in his own way devout
His weapons are many and his muscles still strong
Sleek and cunning in his own bastard way
He cannot be owned but yet at the masters feet he does lay
He’ll gladly spill blood yours or his own
But he’d much rather provide warmth or play
He is The Cur so often neglected, over looked, forgotten, ancient, unkown
He curls up next to the one who let him Love, Protect, Cherish
He adores the one who gave him the chance, who took him in and let him love and belong
He sits at her feet a Regal mutt, Loyal, Happy, Boyish, in love and finlly at home
©6-4-11 MJMansfield
