by Peggy Archer
My dog has lots of whiskers
growing on his face.
Like a broom they sweep the floor
cleaning up the place.
You'll never find a scrap of food.
He does his very best.
He eats what he can find, and then
his whiskers catch the rest.
from Name That Dog! Puppy Poems from A-Z
by Peggy Archer
2010, Dial
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