Look at me:
I’m a helpless little kitten up a tree
And I’m squealing, because I’m pissed, really loud;
I’m not down on land—
I’m a kit treed,
Oh, Fido, be damned!

Dogs are banes;
They’re just bow-wows, violently causing pains.
I wish on them the fate of Old Yeller. . .
Can’t get outta here,
A poor kit treed and quaking in fear.

Spooky baying relentlessly on;
It’s the Baskerville Hound, I tell you.
I wish this grotesque mutt would get lost,
Or at least go take a poo.

Find a bone
By digging and make its owner start to groan
At the hole in his lawn: look at that cleft.
A gat, please! a gun,
Then, dude, hit the mutt with more than one
Slug, then slip the mutt in hole he’s dug.

Look, I’m free!