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i bought me a dog
from the man
on the three-pine hill

and named him Aloysius Jones

that rascal gived me jes' one look
and i took him home under my one arm
to my place down the pike

i stroked his speckled neck
spoke softly in his speckled ear
shared my dinner from my gilded plate
let him lay in my quilted bed

Aloysius whimpered
and sniffed the corners of my room
and snuffled down into my arms
and said it smelled like home.

it was not long in days
before me an' Aloysius
became we

he stayed collected near my feet
or sighed and eyed me
as content as can be
and i was as content as he.

but runnin’ was in Aloysius Jones’ blood
the way that summer is in boyhood
or blue is in the sky

and whenever my door was open
he’d break
and race
such that the Devil Himself couldn’t catch him.

i'd run after
and beg
and taunt
plead
and
play

finally
with a voice that could fell
all that exuberance
I would yell

“Aloysius Jones,
you come on back;
you’re going wrong.”

some days
he’d hang his spotted head
and come back to me.

but
Aloysius got it in his head
that there was more out there

so one day I opened the door
and Aloysius Jones
blew out of town

and he didn't come on back
and Aloysius
he went wrong.