(A true and accurate description of our mad dog at Christmas)

 

I have for you the strangest tale,

Of Christmas joy that does prevail,

Amid minced pies and warm egg nog,

There's a happy little sausage dog.

 

Every year his spirit lifts,

In expectation of his gifts,

And not just his, he likes yours too,

Which he'll happily unwrap for you.

 

Christmas Eve he's by the door,

Like every Christmas Eve before,

Impatient, waiting, gently rocking,

To see us hang his Christmas stocking.

 

On Christmas Day he just can't wait,

To get in and investigate,

If Santa's been and left for him,

A stocking filled right to the brim.

 

And when he sees it hanging there,

He likes to make us all aware,

Of how much he appreciates,

This oh so special annual date.

 

His little tail just wags with joy,

As he looks up at treats and toys,

'Cos he can't wait to dive right in,

And open presents left for him.

 

Then in a whirlwind of unwrapping,

Of wagging tail and ears all flapping,

Of paper drifting like a fog,

Lies a happy little sausage dog.