I’m trying to write a song, in the words of a cuddly little dog, because we all love our pets,
and with a bit of promotion from a dog-loving DJ, maybe that wonderful Paul O'Grady,
hope it will climb into the charts (any musicians out there are welcome to offer harmonious chords.)

Song:
‘We’ve lost our jolly little dog, Fiddlypaws, who got lost in the fog,
and feeling lonely sought out the company of other animals.
 
We’ve been to her favourite pub, The Barking Frog, then Lord Buthnot’s safari park,
where she liked to play with Sally The Seal and Dolly The Dolphin,
which the doddery old aristocrat says represents ‘The world of marvellous sea mammals.’

Maybe he thought two would be enough.

After we put her on a proper diet, instead of her daily steak and salmon, she got the huff.
If like me, you have a fat pet, you really should try it.

Maybe that’s why she once ran off with the master of ceremonies at Crufts, Gerald McFussystick,
a gentle, camp chap who lives in a house full of cats.

Well, what do you think of it so far? 
Come on, it’s surely good enough for the comedy club in Melton Parva, 
situated next door to my cottage, and curiously named The Laughing House.

Look at the ‘stars’ that place has generated – Harold McPill, Leopold Hack and Jonathan Archbishop, 
the one who has pioneered a new dialect called Exaggerated Scouse.

(I shall continue my attempt at songwriting when I have dealt with a court 
summons from a comedian performing next door in that so called comedy club, 
who overhead me singing the above ditty in the bath. 
Maybe he was annoyed because I actually got a laugh.)