Black-eyed dog, how easily you do come,
So swiftly you do leave,
I hardly get a chance to ask,
Where do you come from?
Sniffing out the scent of gloom,
Coming not to comfort, and never to repose,
With big black moons in sorrowed hazy eyes,
You puff the air of woe.
Not for your own sake and not for the sake of others,
You wheeze and puff for sake's sake,
and not one bit for another.
I'll cast you off again,
And shake off my misty fog,
But when I run on black terrain,
I'll think of you, damn dog.
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