Master, this is thy servant. He is rising eight weeks old.
He is mainly head and tummy. His legs are uncontrolled
But thou hast forgiven his ugliness, and settled him on thy knee.
Master, behold a sinner! He hath committed a wrong
He has defiled thy premises through being kept in too long
Wherefore his nose has been rubbed in the dirt, and his self respect has been bruised
Master, pardon they sinner! And see he is properly loosed
Master- again thy sinner! This that was once thy shoe
He hath found and taken and carried aside, as fitting matter to chew
Now there is neither blacking nor tongue, and the Housemaid has us in tow
Master, remember thy servant is young, and tell her to let him go!
Master extol thy servant! Strange children came to play
And because they fought to caress him, thy servant wentest away
But now the little beasts have gone, he has returned to see
(Brushed with his Sunday collar on) what they have left over from tea
Master, pity thy servant! He is deaf and three parts blind
He cannot catch thy commandments. He cannot read thy mind
Oh! Leave him not in his loneliness; nor make him that kitten's scorn
He hath had none other God than thee since the year that he was born
Lord, look down on thy servant! Bad things have come to pass
There is no heat in the midday sun, nor health in the wayside grass
His bones are full of an old disease- his torments run and increase
Lord, make haste with thy lightenings, and grant him a quick release!
~ Rudyard Kipling ~