Old Dennis was a 'coon hound
Bound by fate to destroy all in his path
He cannot escape his own blood but after all, he's just a dog
He knows his signals from the well worked hand of his keeper
His keeper, never a master
His soul was already tainted at birth so his future was inevitable
Nose to the dirt
Vigilant with the kill, he longs to be free
If nature versus nurture than how can this be?
"He's not a bad dog, he just has a genetic temper"
Unfair to be gruesome in a world yet so cruel
His keeper only adores him but his bloodlust is far too raw
They all say we should take him out back, we all know what happens there
But in the end it was better for old Dennis to disappear
Some say that his spirit lives on in those Southern hunting grounds
When the wind whistles just so in that Spanish moss, a haunting howl can be heard
For the fate of the 'coon hound is always set in stone
But if you ever see old Dennis
I fear you'd better run
YOU ARE READING
WAX & SATIN
Poetry-"The Southern Gospel of the Southern Gothic. It always turns out to be a small town where everyone knows your name. The depraved are washed in blood, pleasure is found in dark places. Thankfully, there's still church on Sunday morning." A.E.Edward'...
