He was more than just another dog,
Who knew his niche in life...

A Bluetick through and through again,

Much loved, like Owner's wife.


At night old Rowdy seemed to bloom,

Like flower that's unfurling,

No river stopped him on a chase,

Though water might be swirling.


He rode so proudly in the seat,

Of owner's pickup truck....

Both excited at the thought,

Of hunting, and their luck.


It didn't take Old Rowdy long,

To hit upon hot track...

And off he'd go, his baying loud,

While never looking back.


His owner had to hustle fast,

Keep up with Rowdy's sound,

As chase was on, and Rowdy's nose,

Was always on the ground.


There was music in old Rowdy's voice,

When finally he had treed,

A different note, from in his throat,

Rang out like prisoner freed.


A raccoon never had a chance,

With Rowdy on his trail,

Between the dog and owner,

They collected one more tail.


As time went on and years rolled by,

Rowdy's fame spread far and wide,

Many yearned to buy him,

To hunt him by their side.


But Rowdy never was for sale,

And his owner beamed with pride,

At the sight of faithful dog,

Who never left his side.


But Rowdy had a special trick,

That caught each person's eye,

He liked to go into the bar,

Where owner used to buy...


A beer each for, the both of them,

Old Rowdy drank his down,

From bowl they placed upon the floor,

It soon spread through the town....


So when the hunters gathered there,

To satisfy their thirst,

Old Rowdy, famous as he was,

Bartender served him first.


Rowdy lived for several years,

Until one fateful night...

A boar coon tangled with him,

The raccoon won the fight.


They recovered Rowdy's body,

From the river that flowed fast..

The coon had drowned him then and there,

Rowdy's drinking days were past.


But the Rowdy legend still goes on,

And the hunters like to say,

That on a dark, and cold crisp night,

You can still hear Rowdy bay.


©  2004  Loree (Mason) O’Neil


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