Leaving the house requires the shrewdness of a shrew
Between myself and the gate lies a minefield of poo
It is Alba the guard dog's defensive work of art
I've only had one slip-up, and from that I can take heart
The trouble is the stench you see it's really rather bleak
It does however aid in navigation from the street
You would giggle if you saw me, leaping toe to toe
The defence is always shifting - it's something of a lotto