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Bob, the Pedigree Sheepdog (Mike Cross and Roger Chappell) I've got a dog, his name is Bob And I know he's a pedigree sheepdog 'Cos if walkers stray on the Pennine Way He'll prove he's a Dalesbred sheepdog And he'll fill the pen with assorted men Something to sharpen his teeth on And his picnic taste for salmon paste Proves he's a Dalesbred sheepdog So if you see Bob, the outlaw dog Better leave him well alone "Cos he likes little girls with long blond curls Much better than a bone. Now at Sheepdog Trials they come for miles Just to see a pedigree sheepdog And his country fans all clap their hands 'Cos they know he's a Dalesbred sheepdog. Whilst others leap to round up sheep He's a nowhere to be seen dog. Knocking down Newcastle Brown Proves he's a pintsize sheepdog. Now cars and bikes and folks on hikes Are clogging all the Dales up And if it goes on there won't be none For our littermen to clean up. But Bobs works hard in his own farmyard; He doesn't need a reason. A tourist a day keeps pollution away And it's always open season. A dog-food man with a can in his hand Full of marrowbone jelly and noodles Said he's had enough of dogs from Crufts And temp'ramental poodles. He could take us far - make Bob a star - Gold-plated kennels and houses But Bob gave a grin as he opened the tin And took the backside out of his trousers. Now a man came round from the Skipton Pound; In his hand he carried a Summons 'Cos Bob put a paw outside the law - By gum, he is a rum'un; They'd had complaints to use restraints And swore out an injuncture. Bob's offense was he'd no license To practice acupuncture. So if you see Bob, the outlaw dog, Better leave him well alone 'Cos he likes little girls with long blonde curls Much better than a bone. copyright EFDS Publications 1974 SOF
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!