She called you Princess. Gave you a name.
As if that excused your nightly campaign.

You barked through warnings and sleep I lost.
Through the job I needed and all that you cost.

You barked every night, through half-past four.
To the hole in the wall, and through every door.

You wouldn’t shut up. You wanted this fight.
So I came to your door to give you a fright.

Knocked once. Maybe four. It’s all a blur.
But she called the police. Said I frightened her.

She lied to the rozzers. Said I was to blame.
As if I’d invented your damn noisy game.

I told them the issue. I said I was stuck.
They stared at a man who’d run out of luck.

They told me to stop. Go home, back to bed.
I said I live here, and I want that dog dead.

Shock in their eyes, they stroked your fat head.
Then wrote down my name and all that I’d said.

You barked as they left. Gave me a glance.
Fuck you, Princess. This was your last chance.

Now this must stop, I’ll keep my bad plan.
This man will outlast what a bad dog began.

This doesn’t all end with a neighbourhood spat.
Soon, you’ll be quiet. I will see to that.