Fido, Fido, the dog Fido 
Is a truly ridiculous dog; 
One never knows if he’s on his back, 
Nor whether he’s advancing or retreating. 
He looses track of his hair and his mouth, 
His ears hang in shreds; 
When it rains he puts on boots, 
A little cap when it’s fair. 

In order to club him on the head with an iron, 
One must bring in a practitioner; 
And as he no longer sees clearly 
One must bring him to the optician. 
And when he goes off hunting 
He is forced to put on glasses. 
The little partridges laugh, the magpies tease him, 
And the rabbits roll around on the ground. 

Fido, Fido, the dog Fido 
Is a truly ridicuous dog; 
One never knows if he’s on his back, 
Nor whether he’s advancing or retreating.