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In the Old West.
The saloon doors swing open and dust and sunlight roll in together.
A three legged dog slowly steps into the saloon and stops.
He looks around the room slowly with a scowl on his face.
He says very seriously,
I'm lookin for the man who shot my paw.
In the Old West.
The saloon doors swing open and dust and sunlight roll in together.
A three legged dog slowly steps into the saloon and stops.
He looks around the room slowly with a scowl on his face.
He says very seriously,
I'm lookin for the man who shot my paw.
:leprechaun:
