Conor Ross
Old Lady Manning had a dog, so simple and small
that would sit and pant outside with the family all.
The Manning family hobby was wholesome and sweet,
It was to wait for a full moon and hold a porch meet
And talk with delight of this or of that,
to smoke a pipe or count passing bats.
They would play crackajack and stretchy nose
and games plenty else that nobody knows.
Yet a problem would arise with the moon full bright
For the dog would not gaze at that lunar light.
Old Man Manning always saying what he always said,
"If th' dog won't look at th' moon, I'll shoot him dead."
The dog would look here and look there,
The dog would sniff there and sniff here.
He would play with a ball, or a knotted rope tie,
but never looked anywhere but Lady Manning's eyes.
"If th' dog won't look at th' moon, I'll shoot him dead."
Old Man Manning always saying what he always said.
And this time meant to do it, and went to get his gun.
But out stepped with a grin, the Young Manning Son.
Old Man Manning let out a sigh and held off for a mo'
while Young Manning Son gave dog training a go.
"To tame a beast, it takes force and thunder"
said the son, wrestling the dog around and under.
With the dog in headlock he spun towards target
but wriggling away the dog wouldn't have it.
So he pinched its sides, to turn it like a ship's rudder
and it kept twisting one way, being pinched on t'other
Then the Son had a bright idea (that was really quite dim)
foiled by the fact that he had a set number of limbs,
to center his aim he pinched both sides with glee,
but the dog was not held, and with a yelp shot free.
Laughter erupted as the dog ran to Lady Manning's side,
leaving the Young Manning Son red faced and wide eyed,
who started a-yelling, "Bad dog, how dare you defy me!
I'll flog you, I'll mince you, I'll hang you up a tree!"
Old Man Manning again arose, "Son you gave it a go,
But now this dog has got to reap what it did sow."
He got his rifle, and walked it back loaded with lead,
the dog none the wiser when it was aimed at his head.
Then Daughter Manning spoke "Oh Father put down the rifle,
training takes subtly and support, for me it shan't be a trifle."
So father relented to give his darlin' daughter a try,
he sat his rifle down, then himself with a great sigh.
Daughter Manning had confidence in her style of lesson,
that worked not by force but by the power of suggestion.
She put on a velvet glove, that shone and shined,
bejewelled with exotic gems, so diverse and refined.
She gazed upon that velveted hand, in loving conceit,
with delicate movements she took hold of a dog treat.
The dog's eye was caught by the sparkle of the jewels,
and when its nose got scent of food it began to drool.
In a stupor, the dog watched the strange dance
that Daughter Manning performed as if in a trance.
Slowly and surely she danced towards the moon,
and the dog began to pant, following the tune:
"Oh doggy, doggy — Oh doggy, doggy,
Watch me and copy, watch me and copy.
We must scaffold, to support every step,
we must cajole, to weave a spider's web."
And sure as sure can be, the dog followed the hand home,
provided with treat after treat, its eye dared not roam.
Finally in a flourish, Daughter Manning gave a twirl
and caressed the moon as if it were a precious pearl.
"By golly it's true, it's true. The dog gazes at the moon!"
said the Young Manning Son, jumping up like a baboon.
But Old Man Manning's eyes, as poorly as they were,
observed a crucial fact and thus could not concur.
For as soon as Daughter Manning had returned to her seat,
the dog went bounding after looking for another treat,
Daughter Manning could not escape, try as much as she might
for the dog would not quit - to her hand his eyes glued tight.
"Yes the dog looked where me daughter had wanted,
'tis true, the hand and the dog had been bonded.
But still, there's no love in tis' dog for night's lantern.
It wouldn't know Moon from Sun or from Saturn."
Sapped of his strength the son cheered for the shoot,
the daughter, her techniques trampled, would not dispute.
With just a shared look they made a careful alliance,
a happy agreement to let the dog die for its defiance
So Old Man Manning decided to finish the job he had begun.
Meanwhile the dog, broke its trance, left daughter and son,
and sat next to the Old Lady Manning in a swoon
staring at her face illuminated by the full moon.
She'd not the strength of her son nor the tricks of her daughter,
How could she save her dog? The question gnashed and gnawed her.
Silently, she begged her dog to yield to that waltzing woman of the night
but to no avail, so she prayed and prayed for her to increase her light.
Old Man Manning walked closer, yet the moon seemed not to care,
he aimed his gun at the dog's head, the Lady doubled her prayers,
her eyes pouring out onto the moon. The dog soon to meet its fate
poured his own eyes into hers with a fear deep and innate.
Old Man Manning with a grunt pulled back the heavy bolt,
his finger on the trigger - but what he saw made him halt.
In the dog's eye, a small shard of that silvery bone
thrice reflected in eyes - and now entering his own.
The Old Lady, without looking away, spoke the words wise
"As the moon poaches from the sun, so this dog from our eyes."
So there was no shooting of dogs on that full moon or the next,
and the Mannings learnt well — 'tis love that teach best.
