Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
But those were the days of basenjis gone by
When the world was a beautiful place
And natives were met by yodelling cry
From the dog that is full of grace.
At humans command now they satnd in the "rings" and the judges feel their bones.
They let them look- these "wild bush things"
At their heads and their colour tones.
Poem by Ann Cooper

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