Lone Dog by Irene McLeod
I’m a lean dog, a keen dog, a wild dog, and lone
I’m a rough dog, a tough dog, hunting on my own!
I’m a bad dog, a mad dog, teasing silly sheep;
I love to sit and bay at the moon and keep fat souls from sleep
I’ll never be a lap dog, licking dirty feet,
A sleek dog, a meek dog, cringing for my meat.
Not for me the fireside, the well-filled plate,
But shut door and sharp stone and cuff and kick and hate.
Not for me the other dogs, running by my side,
Some have run a short while, but none of them would bide.
O’ mine is still the lone trail, the hard trail, the best,
Wide winds and wild stars and the hunger of the quest.