Mi dawgz got no fleez,
orr enny dizeez;
heez kleen az kan bee,
mutch morrso than mee.
Heez perfewmd n pamperd
n sitz on mi nee,
tho hee corzez prblmz
wen ime drinkn mi tee.

Hee lykz to lik crumms
frm off ov mi fayce
then fartz like mi huzbnd –
thair bofe a disgrayce.

Eye reely carnt tork,
cuz ive gott mi ohn vice.
Eym embarrassd to tell yoo,
yool think eyem nott nice.
Eye only doo it wen eye am alohn;
jest mee n mi dawg
n mi dawgz big bohn.

I norr on dat bohn
n it sootz mee jest fyne.
I suk on da marro,
yum, taystz reel divyne.
I git da last meet
thatz close to da bohn,
where it iz most sweet.

“Itz dawg food!” yool say,
butt itz betta than myne.
Heez happi to share it,
most ov da tyme,
butt eye no heez nott
wen hee startz to whyne.

 

Translation:
My Big Dog and Me

My dog's got no fleas,
or any disease;
he's clean as can be,
much more so than me.
He's perfumed and pampered
and sits on my knee,
though he causes problems
when I'm drinking my tea.

He likes to lick crumbs
from off of my face
then farts like my husband –
they're both a disgrace.

I really can't talk,
'cos I've got my own vice.
I'm embarrassed to tell you,
You'll think I'm not nice.
I only do it when I am alone;
just me and my dog
and my dog's big bone.

I gnaw on that bone
and it suits me just fine.
I suck on the marrow,
yum, tastes real divine.
I get the last meat
that's close to the bone,
where it is most sweet.

“It's dog food!” you'll say,
but it's better than mine.
He's happy to share it,
most of the time,
but I know he's not
when he starts to whine.