Rough was old and grizzled, with a muzzle white as snow
But every hunting season, old Rough was set to go
With legs so short and stumpy, he'd stand on his hind feet
Just to look across the open fields, when the grass was thick and deep

Rough was all confused when they first brought Reddy home
All legs and tail and four big paws, too young to gnaw the bone
And when they went to bed that night, Reddy sat and cried
And they didn't get a wink of sleep, 'till Rough lay by his side

Rough would take him hunting, down by the old fence row
Or down along the weedy banks, where the pheasants liked to go
He taught him how to find the scent and how to keep the trail
And how to run the rows of corn, to flush a flock of quail

It seems like only yesterday, when Rough just up and died
They put him on the wagon, with Reddy by his side
They laid him in the grassy bank, down by the three mile crick
And Reddy sat and whimpered, and wouldn't eat a lick

And now the frost is on the vine, and the wind is stinging cold
And the gun sits in the corner, and Reddy's getting old
He likes to walk the grassy banks, where the crick runs deep and wide
And you know it won't be long 'till he's lying by Rough's side

Rough and Reddy.. by Jerry Rasmussen^^

Two old dogs for the price of one.

This one's for you, Wolfgang..