The Ballad of Nabs Sorghum Beagle of the Wild Lands

Paul promised Sarah Gailey a ballad about our beagle, Nabs. Nabs, however, is not a ballad beagle. Nabs is a drinking song beagle. Or maybe he just has a drinking song mama; regardless, he can tell everybody this is his song.

‘Twas a cold and gray October day
When the mists rolled o’er the hills.
Through the tangled brush he traveled far,
A lean and hungry cur.
No food for him there was that day tho
The sorghum clouds lay sweet upon his fur.

He was a wild proud hunter.
All feared to cross his path.
His bray echoed brave throughout the woods
And no man knew his name.

For years he wandered all alone
Leaving pups to bear his face
Their mothers pining for his kiss
But never he returned.

For he was Nabs!
Yes, he was Nabs!
Nabs the wild sorghum dog!
He was Nabs!
Yes, he was Nabs!
And he could not be tamed!

But the winter grew cold
And he grew thin.
Ticks his only friends.

He looked to the sky and he said to himself,
“It may be time to say goodbye.
The road, the road, she calls to me,
and I my heart must follow.
So I’ll lay me down on that line of gold
and wait for fate to come.”

For he was Nabs!
Yes, he was Nabs!
Nabs the wild sorghum dog!
He was Nabs!
Yes, he was Nabs!
What fate would be his own?

Tonight he sleeps on pillowtop.
Memory foam pillows too.
Blankets keep him warm as he snores
Betwixt his people two.
His snores rattle rafters.
He eats like a king.
But, oh, there was a price.

In place of ticks,
He deals with cats,
And his balls were gone with a slice!

For he was Nabs!
Yes, he was Nabs!
Nabs the wild sorghum dog!
He was Nabs!
Yes, he was Nabs!
Nabs, the wild sorghum dog!

Comments are closed.