On cobbled streets that were dark and grim,
Our working lives we did begin,
Tought not to bark, and yet to bite,
To put the other dogs to flight.
With my masters voice close by my ears,
I put aside my own dark fears,
I learned to fight, and learned to kill,
I learned to bend to my masters will.
The pit, it was a fearsome place,
Nowhere to hide, from the foe to face,
"Tearīim, boy" my master roared,
And when I did, theyīd all applaud.
I took no joy, I felt no pain,
And in the pit I did remain,
My masters joy each time I won,
Convinced that he was having fun.
But all too soon, it came to tell,
One fight too many, and then I fell,
One dog too big for me to fight,
I was going to fail, it wasnīt right.
My masters voice could not be heard,
He didnīt speak a single word,
And as I laid me down to die,
He couldnīt be bothered to say goodbye.
My dimming eyes, they searched around,
Desperate for that familiar sound,
But only strangers, now held me tight,
Assuring me, "Itīll be all right".
Surrounded and mobbed by the noise of men,
Who raise me up as best they can,
They try to help, they seem to care,
But still my master is not there.
Transported from pit to another place,
More strangers, with a friendly face,
They tend my wounds, and make me well,
But for exactly what?, no-one can tell.
