Sleepy Old Dog

Sleepy Old Dog

That preacherman come, walking right on my street.
Come house to house, come knockin on doors.
“It’s heaven or hell.  In the Bible believe.”
He bade me stop while I’m doin my chores.
He’s filling me up with what’s right and what’s wrong.
Only one I trust is my sleepy old dog.

I said, “When he wakes up we’ll see what he says.
He can smell a lie on the palm a yo’ hand.
If his tail’s gonna wag, and he smiles you
he be breathin hard, and I’ll be listenin’ too.
But if the hair on his back stands up,
you better fade away in the fog.
You don’t want that bite of my sleepy ol’ dog.” 

The preacherman he kept talkin to me.
With people passing by.  I got a broom in my hand.
Two hippies come up.  Couple krishna’s besides.
They all hangin’ around talking fast as they can.
I’m thinkin about all the work I gotta do.
And that old dog keeps sleepin right through.

The krishas chant and the hippies get high.
The preacherman shouts and he raises his hand.
Right then, my old dog, he just opens one eye,
and that eye rolls around looking up and down at everyone there.
Then the hair on his back stands up in a ridge,
and he bares his teeth, and he lets out a growl.
Then they all run away, and I got a new song.
So I’m scratchin’ the head of my sleepy old dog.

Copyright © 2007, 2014 by David Larstein, all rights reserved.

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