Naughty Rosie

Oh, Rosie, you golden rascal, you,
With your fur of sun-kissed hue,
And a heart that beats to a mischievous tune,
Underneath the silver moon.

You, who prance with socks in mouth,
North, south, east, and west, you dart about,
A canine thief in the dead of night,
Your tail wagging with sheer delight.

Oh, the socks you’ve devoured, Rosie dear,
Enough to last a laundry year,
Argyles, stripes, and polka dots,
Even the ones with forget-me-nots.

You’ve got a taste for cotton and wool,
Your belly must be incredibly full,
Yet, you prance around, not a care in the world,
Your tongue out, your tail unfurled.

And when the day is done, and night falls,
You, Rosie, heed the couch’s calls,
Up you jump, with a naughty grin,
Settling into the cushions, chin on fin.

You sit there, like a queen on her throne,
In a house that’s not your own,
But we love you, Rosie, socks and all,
Even when you’re sprawled across the hall.

So here’s to you, our naughty girl,
With your golden fur and your tail’s curl,
May your days be filled with socks to eat,
And couches to warm your mischievous seat.