Hullabaloo's Vogon Poetry
Created | Updated Feb 28, 2002
Old Roger
Old Roger was my dog.
I had him for seven years
Through rain and snow and sleet and fog
Through sunshine and through tears.
When he was young he'd chase the cats
From tree to tree to tree
Unless the mog turned round and spat -
How swiftly he would flee!
We went for walks, Roger and me
A vogon and his hound
But now we can't, because, you see,
He's buried in the ground.
Sometimes I think of Roger and weep
To think of the fun we had
In fields, near fires, awake, asleep
Through good times and through bad
And again I weep and reminisce
And hope he's with the Blest
Old Roger I shall always miss
Old Roger was the best
And, since he died when he was seven,
I hope he's now in Doggy Heaven.
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