I only want someone to call my name –
The one He gave, not scucca, Shug, or Shuck.
Abandoned in this marsh to untrimmed fame,
Without Him by my side, it seems I’m stuck.
These flatland folk can’t see me save at night,
And when they do, they’re never any fun –
They never want to play, or hunt, or fight;
They only want to whimper, freeze, or run.
But I was trained to hold strait to my course,
To stick and strive until the job’s complete.
If I can show I’m fast as any horse,
Then maybe He’ll return and give me treats.
Until He rides this way I’ll haunt this fen,
And howl alone until I’m Pack again.
|The original, identikit picture of Black Shuck looks more like a ram than a dog. This is cuter, trust me. Source.|