Classic Poem

As I turn'd into the market-place
What, think ye, I met but a vagabond dog?
He wagg'd his tail & look'd up in my face
And straight at my heels began to jog.

I call'd him a name which he seem'd to know
For he eyed me like a good old friend
'Twas a pitiful sight to see him go;
But his limit was the market's end.