Beanie

Beanie is old,
And his walk is slow,
But still we play in the park,
Beanie,
Me and Mark.
In dog-years he’s twenty-three or more,
So he must be a hundred and sixty-four!
But still we play in the park,
Beanie,
Me and Mark.
He can’t catch his tail or the ball in mid-air,
And run as he did with the wind in his hair,
And he’s long forgotten how to bark,
But still we play in the park,
Beanie,
Me and Mark.