A passion for bones

I recently came across this early poem by the poetic giant Dylan Thomas. How early? He was 11 and “The Song of the Mischievous Dog” was his first published poem. (In his school magazine.) It certainly shows promise, but I’m rather glad he grew beyond it.

“The Song of the Mischievous Dog”

There are many who say that a dog has its day,
   And a cat has a number of lives;
There are others who think that a lobster is pink,
   And that bees never work in their hives.
There are fewer, of course, who insist that a horse
   Has a horn and two humps on its head,
And a fellow who jests that a mare can build nests
   Is as rare as a donkey that’s red.
Yet in spite of all this, I have moments of bliss,
   For I cherish a passion for bones,
And though doubtful of biscuit, I’m willing to risk it,
   And love to chase rabbits and stones.
But my greatest delight is to take a good bite
   At a calf that is lump and delicious;
And if I indulge in a bite at a bulge,
   Let’s hope you won’t think me too vicious.