BOUVIERS ARE BEARISH

Through early ev'ning fog I see
The Bouvier who waits for me,
Waits in the shade beneath a tree,
For my return , so patiently.

Bouviers are bearish,
They're shaggy and they're squarish
And I can love my Bouvie all I please.

Beneath a pair of shaggy brows,
I spy the eyes that "eye' the cows,
The eyes that pledge eternal vows.
O ! Paragon of all Bow-Wows !

A moustache and a beared chin
And gleaming fangs that lie within
Can form a playful, loving grin
Or reprimand the burglar's sin !

The multi-facet , huge , black nose
Will catch the scent of friends or foes,
To track one down where're he goes,
Through grassy fields or frozen snows !

Two sharply pointed , upright ears
(Created by the surgeon's shears)
Complete the face the burglar fears,
The face I find most dear of dears !

And when I lay me down to sleep,
The Bouvier my soul shall keep :
For, while she dreams of herding sheep,
She'd wake to make the burglar weep !

Bouviers are bearish,
They're shaggy and they're squarish,
And I can love my Bouvie all I please.
And you can love a Bouvie if you please.