The Black Dog
This morning the black dog came to my door
I’d forgotten to take my medication
He climbed the stairs and he lay on the floor
In flat out surly provocation
It’s been a while but he knows my street still yet
He said I was low on milk and on honey
Without asking he lit my last cigarette
And wondered aloud if he could borrow some money
Tomorrow at first light he’ll no doubt be gone again
And an hour or two later I’ll be feeling just fine
He’ll go and he’ll scratch at somebody else’s pain
And leave me in peace at least till the next time
