No animals were hurt in the creation of this poem.

Ain’t got heat but for one room--
bellies growl . . . predicting doom.
Pappy’s got the cure for ‘poor’:
have a drink, belch, kick the dawg.
Pap’s near-sighted (it’s a log).
Eeee eeee eee Ow ww ww (That’s Pappy’s unstressing yawl.)
Pap ain’t smart--
ain’t demure--he’s crude fur shur.
Yella teef turned black with rot
kneed sum pli’ars, he ain’t got.
Pap’s no gentleman, sur
hand in his pants, kicks the dawg.
Pap’s near-sighted (it’s a log).
Eeee eeee eee Ow ww ww (Oh, dear, Pappy’s gonna bawl.)
Feeling bad-- very sad--
that dawg’s the cure.
The lagoon is Pap’s spitton;
Pap’s fingers ar his spoons.
Pappy’s got the cure for ‘poor’:
go haf nakey, kick the dawg.
Pap’s near-sighted (it’s a log).
Eeee eeee eee Ow ww ww (That’s Pappy’s unstressing call.)
T’baccy--
oh, mercy--it’s good to chaw.
Pap greased a hog slick, it ran.
Chased him, slammed, in’a fryin’ pan.
Pappy’s got the cure for ‘poor’:
cans entertain kids, kick the dawg.
Pap’s near-sighted (it’s a log).
Eeee eeee eee Ow ww ww Oops, Pappy’s unstressing sprawl
shows ‘under all’s’--
‘neath coveralls--crude fur shur.
Ain’t got nothing to pass
but a lot of beans and gas.
Pappy’s got the cure for ‘poor’:
have a drink, belch, kick the dawg.
Pap’s near-sighted (it’s a log).
Eeee eeee eee Ow ww ww (That’s Pappy’s unstressing yawl.)
Pap ain’t smart--
ain’t demure--he’s crude fur shur.
Guzzlin’ moonshine ain’t too smart
but Pap’s still got a big heart.
How Pap cried when that dawg fell.
(A twig snapped.) “Dawg broke his . . . .! Eeee eeee eee Ow ww ww!”