When the good Lord gave out faces,
to the dogs of long ago,
he found when he had issued them,
there was still one dog to go -

Where's this dog's face? he called aloud,
I know I must have made it.
There must be someone hereabouts
who's clumsily mislaid it.

A shy young angel then stepped up,
Forgive me, Lord he said.
He stuttered and he stammered
and he turned a little red -

I never thought it was a face,
it fell out of your bag.
So I thought you had discarded it
as just a piece of rag.

So I promptly went and used it,
for so very many things,
Like polishing up the halos
and waxing up the wings.

It's creased and crumpled as you see,
- in truth it's a disgrace....
I dont know how, my dearest Lord,
you can use it for a face.

I realise it's all my fault
and there's no one else to blame
I trust you can forgive me Lord
my heart's so full of shame.

Of course I have forgiven you,
but here we've got a mess,
so I'll make amends to this poor dog
and him I'll truly bless.

He'll be called an "English Bulldog"
that's about the only place
where the people are so silly
as to love an ugly face.

But he'll be kind and gentle
and of courage he'll be full -
as well as love and loyalty
- the ugly, lovely bull.

And that is how, my children
in that long gone year of grace
the dear old English Bulldog
got his lovely, ugly face.


Ank Hobbs.