JIM-DOG

He was n't, well, a fancy kind o’ dog —

Not Jim!

But, oh, I sorter could n't seem ter help

A-lovin’ him.

He always seemed ter understand.

He'd rub his nose against my hand

If I was feelin’ blue or sad.

Or if my thoughts was pretty bad;

An’ how he'd bark an’ frisk an’ play

When I was gay!

A soldier's dog do n't have much time ter whine

Like little pets a-howlin’ at th’ moon.

A soldier's dog is bound ter learn, right soon,

That war is war, an’ what a steady line

Of men in khaki means.

( What, dogs do n't know?

You bet they do! Jim-dog, he had ter go

Along th’ trenches oftentimes at night;

He seemed ter sense it when there was a fight

A-brewin’. Oh, I guess he knew, all right! )

I was a soldier, an’ Jim-dog was MINE.

Ah, what's the use?

There never was another dog like him.

Why, on th’ march I'd pause an’ call — “Hey, Jim!”

An’ he'd be there, his head tipped on one side,

A-lookin’ up at me with love an’ pride,

His tail a-waggin’, an’ his ears raised high....

I wonder why my Jim-dog had ter die?

He was a friend ter folks; he did n't bite;

He never snapped at no one in th’ night;

He did n't hate a soul; an’ he was GAME!

An’ yet... a spark o’ light, a dartin’ flame

Across th’ dark, a sneaky bit o’ lead,

An’ he was... dead!

They say there ai n't no heaven-land for him,

‘ Cause dogs is dogs, an’ have n't any right;

But let me tell yer this; without my Jim

Th’ very shinin’ streets would seem less bright!

An’ somehow I'm a-thinkin’ that if he

Could come at that last stirrin’ bugle call

Up to th’ gates o’ gold aside of me,

Where God stands smilin’ welcome to us all,

An’ I said, “Father, here's my dog... here's

Jim,”

They'd find some corner, touched with love, fer him!