You can`t tell me God would have heaven
So a man couldn`t mix with his friends -
That we are doomed to meet disappointment
When we come to the place the trail ends.

That would be a low-grade sort of Heaven
And I`d never regret a damned sin
If I rush up to the gates white and pearly
And they don`t let my Malamute in.

For I know it would never be homelike
No matter how golden the strand,
If I lose out that pal-loving feeling
Of a Malamute`s nose on my hand.

- Pat O' Cotter