Da Fuhrer Said

When I show my palm like this

My dog sits down.

When I make my palm a fist

My good dog growls.

Then I point to target

The dog begins to bark at

My pointing.

Anointing.

Another not yet bitten.

But soon those teeth will get him.

My dog will be forgiven

He’s doing what I bid him.

Go get ’em boy!

I see his joy

He loves the taste of fear!

That’s why I bring him here.

There’s lots to eat.

And you sure can’t beat

A vast retreat

When I hoist my hand held dog boy.

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