I was the third in a bunch of four,
Life for me was Really a bore,
Fighting for food, my skin was sore,
And food was the one which I needed more.
We slept outside a stable,
Staring at the dinner table,
Hoping that the master would be noble ,
Like in some Aesop's fable.
My mom had no money for food,
So leftovers really tasted good,
But my mom always kept me in mood
But sometimes she was really rude.
Winters never made me cold,
Nights always made me bold,
As my life history is being told,
Two of my brothers are being sold.
Be it rain or be it Fog,
Rest of my Life I am expected to slog,
Run with my master or even jog
And to introduce myself I am Jack your Dog
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