"Beau" by James Stewart
He never came to me
when I would call
unless I had a tennis ball
or he felt like it
but mostly he didn't come at all
When he was young
he never learned to heel
or sit or stay
he did things his way
Discipline was not his bag
but when you were with him
things sure didn't drag
He'd dig up a rosebush
just to spte me
Then he'd turn'n bite me
He bit lots of folks
from day to day
the delivery boy was
his favorite prey
The gas man wouldn't
read our meter
he said we owned
a real man-eater
He set the house on fire
but the story's long to tell
Suffice to say he survived
and the house survived as well
And on evening walks
and Gloria took him
he was always first out the door
The old one and I brought up the rear
because our bones were sore
And he'd charge up the street
with Mom hangin' on
What a beautiful pair they were
And if it was still light
and the tourists were out
they created a bit of a stir
But every once in a while
he'd stop in his tracks
and with a frown on his face
he'd turn around
It was just to make sure
that the old one was there
to follow him where he was bound
We're early to bedders
in our house
I guess I'm the first to retire
and as I'd leave the room
he'd look at me and
get up from his place by the fire
He knows where the tennis balls
were upstairs
and I'd give him one
for a while
And he'd push it under the bed
with his nose
and I'd dig it out
with a smile
But before very long he'd tire of the ball
and he'd be asleep in his corner
in no time at all
And there were nights when
I'd feel him climb upon our bed
and he'd lie between us
and I'd pat his head
And there were nights when
I'd feel his stare
And I'd wake up and
he'd be sitting there
and I'd reach out
to stroke his hair
And sometimes I'd feel him sigh
and I'd think I'd know the reason why
He'd wake up at night and
he would have this fear
of the dark, of life, of lots of things
and he'd be glad to have me near
And now he's dead
and there are nights when I think
I feel him climb upon our bed
and lie between us
and I pat his head
And there are nights when I think
I feel that stare and
I reach out my hand
to stroke his hair
and he's not there
Oh, how I wish that wasn't so
I'll always love a dog named Beau
He never came to me
when I would call
unless I had a tennis ball
or he felt like it
but mostly he didn't come at all
When he was young
he never learned to heel
or sit or stay
he did things his way
Discipline was not his bag
but when you were with him
things sure didn't drag
He'd dig up a rosebush
just to spte me
Then he'd turn'n bite me
He bit lots of folks
from day to day
the delivery boy was
his favorite prey
The gas man wouldn't
read our meter
he said we owned
a real man-eater
He set the house on fire
but the story's long to tell
Suffice to say he survived
and the house survived as well
And on evening walks
and Gloria took him
he was always first out the door
The old one and I brought up the rear
because our bones were sore
And he'd charge up the street
with Mom hangin' on
What a beautiful pair they were
And if it was still light
and the tourists were out
they created a bit of a stir
But every once in a while
he'd stop in his tracks
and with a frown on his face
he'd turn around
It was just to make sure
that the old one was there
to follow him where he was bound
We're early to bedders
in our house
I guess I'm the first to retire
and as I'd leave the room
he'd look at me and
get up from his place by the fire
He knows where the tennis balls
were upstairs
and I'd give him one
for a while
And he'd push it under the bed
with his nose
and I'd dig it out
with a smile
But before very long he'd tire of the ball
and he'd be asleep in his corner
in no time at all
And there were nights when
I'd feel him climb upon our bed
and he'd lie between us
and I'd pat his head
And there were nights when
I'd feel his stare
And I'd wake up and
he'd be sitting there
and I'd reach out
to stroke his hair
And sometimes I'd feel him sigh
and I'd think I'd know the reason why
He'd wake up at night and
he would have this fear
of the dark, of life, of lots of things
and he'd be glad to have me near
And now he's dead
and there are nights when I think
I feel him climb upon our bed
and lie between us
and I pat his head
And there are nights when I think
I feel that stare and
I reach out my hand
to stroke his hair
and he's not there
Oh, how I wish that wasn't so
I'll always love a dog named Beau
__________________
"Film is a disease. When it infects your bloodstream it takes over as the number one hormone. It bosses the enzymes, directs the pineal gland, plays Iago to your psyche. As with heroin, the antidote to Film is more Film." - Frank Capra
"Film is a disease. When it infects your bloodstream it takes over as the number one hormone. It bosses the enzymes, directs the pineal gland, plays Iago to your psyche. As with heroin, the antidote to Film is more Film." - Frank Capra