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Urban dogs

By: Gawain Towler

About The Poem

Walking through various anonymous new-build, steel-shiny estates in the January lockdown, I could only think of escaping to Dorset.

The Poem

I hate those little urban dogs,
I hate their little urban feet,
I hate their little chi-chi togs,
And piles of shit upon the street.
Just forget those simpering faces,
With, “Come here Choux” and rainbow laces.
Give me a beast and open spaces,
Muddy boots and hidden places.
What I need is Blackmore’s hedges,
Deep-set lanes, rustling sedges,
Windblown hills and fog-draped Vale,
Homely pub and a pint of ale

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