I am a noble watchdog, I’m valiant and kind,

But squirrels in the back yard

Cause me to lose my mind.

They skitter up the maple; they chatter and they scold.

The awful names they call me

Would make your blood run cold.

They are, of course, mere cowards; they’re brave up in the tree.

They won’t fight on my level ’cause they’re afraid of me.

I cannot climb the maple, so I stand guard below

Until, bored with the stand-off,

                                                                                              I nobly let them go.