‘Tis the Voice of the Perro

‘Tis the voice of the perro I heard him declare
This place is too quiet I must bark at the air
As a boy with his trumpet so he with his woof
Batters ear’ole and eardrum and rattles the roof
When the weather is sunny he basks on the ground
And his snores have a soothing, mellifluous sound
But when in the evening the Chile air’s chill
His singing is raucous, his baying is shrill

I passed his adobe and saw his new coat
Which he wore with a colourful scarf at his throat
He lay in the doorway surveying the land
And the tourists all gave him a wave of their hand
He strolled down the street, a proprietary beast
As aloof as the Mountains which tower to the East
But then came a cyclist and up leapt the hound
And he saw off the bike with a fierce, joyful sound