Well they had a gross dog and his name was Blue. . .
The logs in the yard came from gross Blue.
Well, doggone, we gotta make toast, Blue.
Yessir, we collared him and he was through.
Bye-bye, Blue! You bad dog, you!

Well, we toted an ax to his doghouse one morn;
His baleful canine glare was full of scorn.
Today he will not tree me;
We kitties coaxed him out, cleverly.
Up on the roof Tom and Max were found
Holding that ax then dropped it down—
Guillotined gross Blue.
“Meowie-wows” ensued.

So, cold Blue died in his own back yard;
Now no more must we be on guard.
Dug a grave with that sharp ax blade;
Lowered him in to that hole we’d made.
We filled it up, and then we bade
Him a far-from-fond “adieu,”
Singin’, “Bye-bye, Blue! You bad dog, you!”

Well now it is heaven for this feline crew;
He won’t be CATchin’ us, mayhem to do.
His owner can’t figure where he went to. . .
Looks forlorn calling for gross Blue,
Sayin’, “Here, Old Blue. Come on, dog!”
Bad dog’s through!