If you hunted birds
With your son
Over pointing dogs
You bred and raised
Your son did too
And built that bond
Where the dogs are the glue
And a point binds all generations
First, middle and last
True to the bond
Twixt men, boys, dogs
That cannot be broke
By time, concrete,
asphalt, or fescue
For the sight of a dog, a boy and man
Frozen at a pointed covey of birds
Poised to flush, fly and land
Is eternal for all
Throughout our great land