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.


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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