Daphne Pope and Bruno

Odor to Bruno on the occasion of Discharging His Anal Glands

in the Basement of the Waltham Watch Factory

Come muses and sniff the fetid aether,

So redolent and foul we hate to breathe her.

This horror has descended as a penance,

On those who all are Waltham Basement's tenants.

But hold!  Now must we tell from the beginning,

Our tale of human woe and canine sinning.

It was a temperate and grayish day,

All in the spring, like days of early May,

When Bruno arrived with Daphne at Dendritics,

Knowing not he would soon be cursed by critics.

All sported they themselves as one gay band,

Til Bruno discharged his brimming anal gland.

Full was his sack, and stretched to full proportions,

While chasing Happy he performed contortions,

Which loosed a blast which overcame all present,

My God! The smell was terribly unpleasant.

Dread pandemonium gripped the frolicking dancers,

Who all now turned to Daphne for proper answers.

But she, stern mistress to the smelly hound,

To no avail sought the odor to impound.

Out, Out!  Foul beast; Out, Out! You stinking cur,

No longer to your smell will we defer,

But consign you to disgrace out in the hallway,

And hope that such punishment chides you