Explore "The Bench-Legged Fyce" by Eugene Field on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Speakin' of dorgs, my bench-legged fyce / Hed most o' the virtues, an' nary a vice. / Some folks called him Sooner, a name that arose / From his predisposition to chronic repose; / But, rouse his ambition, he couldn't be beat -- / Yer bet yer he got thar on all his four feet!
Mos' dorgs hez some forte -- like huntin' an' such, / But the sports o' the field didn't bother him much; / Wuz just a plain dorg, an' contented to be / On peaceable terms with the neighbors an' me; / Used to fiddle an' squirm, and grunt "Oh, how nice! " / When I tickled the back of that bench-legged fyce!