Fred Tom Paxton

I have a dog, and his name is Fred
Poor old feller, he'd be better off dead
Than to live his life with me;
Me being one old flea

Fred used to scratch his back and side
Poor old feller, I would run and hide
I'd drink me a big old beer
And wait till the coast was clear

I know I sound like a mean old rat
But I'm just a flea, you know I can't help that
We're a perfect team, a pretty good match;
I provide the itch and he replies with the scratch
Scratch, Fred, roll on the ground
Scratch, Fred, it makes a musical sound:
Chicka chicka chicka chicka chhhh!
Chicka chicka chicka chicka chhhh!

Fred won shows, he was a big success
So I was living at the best address
Life was a pleasure for me;
He made me a high-class flea
Fred won ribbons and loving cups-
He outclassed all of them other pups
But as soon as we were back in the yard
I'd nip that rascal hard