Papa's Poetry

This page is dedicated to Mrs. Dorothy (Dottie) Stephenson,  a bulldogger in England who gave Papa the inspiration to write poetry. All of this work has been copyrighted. Please mail Papa and let us know if you'd like to borrow anything. By the way, Papa really writes most of his poetry at night under candlelight.

Papa loves bulldogs, so he writes a lot of bulldog poetry.

I've traveled the world, and seen splendid things.
I've reaped the rewards that a "charmed life" can bring.
I've won some blue ribbons; they say it's my style.
But all of this pales, in my bully boy's smile.

By Dan Atcheson (April 18, 2000)

Why do we love our bullydogs so?
It seems very strange to so many, you know.
They maze at the wrinkled up face that seems "smashed."
They whiff doggie odors and gas that's been passed.
If some folks were honest, they'd shout out: "Alas!
You're telling me truly, for this you paid cash?!"

Why do we love our bullydogs so?
Some call us weird and deranged "so-and-so's."
With stark frozen fear, they gaze at the teeth,
the massive broad shoulders and little fat feet.
They gasp at the sight of the jowls and then shriek:
"Someone please save me! Just throw him some meat!"


Why do we love our bullydogs so?
They say we're obsessive fanatics, you know.
An accurate statement, but "Foul !" I protest.
You don't understand why a bulldog's the best!
It's hard to explain; to that I'll confess.
But sit down and listen, to what I profess.

Why do we love our bullydogs so?
And why does our love continue to grow?
I can't speak for all, but I'll say what I know.

To me it is simple, and easy to show:

From the short stumpy tail to the wrinkled-up nose,

they're sensitive children, just dressed in dog's clothes.



By Dan Atcheson (4/26/00)

There once was a bulldog named Baby,
Who sometimes enjoyed being lazy.
He lay by a rose, and stuck up his toes,
And dreamed of biscuits and gravy!

By Dan Atcheson (5/2/00)
My little bully passed away, no more to breath a sound.
I held him for the last time, then entombed him in the ground.
Day and night I wept so much, in tears I thought I'd drown.
I searched my soul for comfort, but no peace therein was found.  

In great despair, I hit my knees and then began to pray.
"Father will I ever see, my dog again someday?"
I raised my eyes and saw an angel standing near a gate.
I sensed an inner peace I'd never felt before that day.

The angel smiled and said to me, "Oh man of little faith!
God sees every bird that falls; He knows your bully's fate.
I have met your little dog, I saw him pass my way.
Your precious dog is still alive; he just walked through this gate.

Paradise is lovelier than you can comprehend.
No pain or grief, no tears or fears, and life will have no end.
God gave to man His only Son, to cover all his sins.
So why would God withhold from you, your pure and loving friend?”

The angel took me by the hand and said, "Now come with me.
A glimpse of paradise I'll give, to you so you can see."
Through the gate and o'er the Rainbow Bridge we did proceed.
Through green valleys filled with flowers, rolling hills and trees.


“Wow, so this is paradise!” The place was filled with joy.
I saw my bully playing there, with dogs and cats and toys.
He also had some doggie treats, and food that he enjoyed.
He'd made a lot of new friends there, including girls and boys.

Then I saw a child come near, and hug my little mate.
She said to him, "I love you so," and kissed him on the face.
The angel said, "The child just crossed the Rainbow Bridge today.
Now she needs a little friend, to love and help her play.

God’s love for her would be enough, in that make no mistake.
But in His love, He knew full well, the child would want a mate.
This is why God called your dog unto this splendid place.
God’s entrusted her with him, ‘til you pass through the gate."

I pleaded, “May I hug them both?!” The angel answered, “No!
You’d violate a sacred site, and now it’s time to go.”
He led me back across the Bridge and through the gate to home.
He left me there with new-found hope and peace within my soul.

If someone ever asks what happens to a dog that dies,
Just give a gentle smile of joy and look them in the eye.
Take their hand and comfort them and tell them not to cry.
For dogs don’t die, they simply cross a bridge to paradise.



(The original Rainbow Bridge image is copyrighted by Ginny (FiFicat) Brancato, founder of Rainbow Bridge, and published here with her gracious permission).  My first bulldog, Beethoven is looking back at me and saying, "I love you so, Papa. I'll see you again on the other side of the bridge, someday." 


By Dan Atcheson (5/5/00)

There once was a bulldog named Babe-O,
Who loved to perform the fandango.
He'd lift up his seat,
And dance on two feet,
While eating a large yellow mango.


By Dan Atcheson (5/6/00)

We won the Cold War; well that's what they say.
What turned the tide on this drawn-out melee?
It wasn't smart weapons that postponed doomsday.
It's just that we had more bulldogs than they.


 By Dan Atcheson (5/16/2000)

 I love reading mail, from my bulldog friends.
They post bully pictures, and yarns that bring grins.
But some mail I dread, like a cold bitter wind:
"The life of a bulldog, just came to an end!"

By Dan Atcheson (5/23/00)

There once was a Bulldog named Baby
Who spied a blonde bully named Daisy.
He lowered his brow
And barked, "Wow-wow-wow!"
And since then he's acted quite crazy.

By Dan Atcheson (9/19/00)

There once was a bulldog named Burtle,
Who loved to dine on crape myrtle.
It colored his coat
And caused him to bloat,
And look like a huge purple turtle.



By Dan Atcheson (10/23/00)

Oh, how I miss the old Halloweens
I still reminisce and ponder the scene
When witches rode broomsticks and skeletons screamed,
And the moon, I was told, was made of green cheese

With neighborhood buddies, we'd all "hit the town"
Some dressed as ghouls, and others as clowns
With no fear of people; their candy was sound
And no need for parents; they'd just slow you down

Like rabble we'd scamper down dimly-lit streets
Tapping on doors, and pleading for treats
If no one responded, well then we got mean
With soap we'd write "FOO" on their front door screen

 But Time took us hostage; we all rode that train
It seemed so slow-moving, deceiving our brains
But when we looked back, and saw where we'd been,
We knew that the voyage was on a jet plane

Yes time has moved forward; new ground it has gained
Stealing our innocence, childhood and games
Like ghosts we have vanished; our images wane,
And only the homes where we lived still remain


By Dan Atcheson (11/11/2000)

This is a tribute to all who've served.
In war, in peace, our freedom you preserved.
Regardless of branch, or gender, or rank.
To all of you, we send our heartfelt "THANKS!"

FOR CAPTAIN BEN ATCHESON (1912-1942) (Opus 16) 

"We regret to inform you," the telegram read
"Your boy is now counted among our dead"
Who was this man that was killed in that war?
Captain Ben Atcheson--Army Air Corps

Ben flew a fighter in World War Two
His plane struck another in a mid-air duel
He could have bailed out, but he chose to stay in
For saving his plane was important to him

But Ben didn't make it, spinning out of control
His ship hit the earth with a deafening roar
In an instant his young life was brought to an end
Leaving behind, his loved-ones and friends

Don't forget Ben on Memorial Day
and all fallen soldiers killed in wars far away
American heroes who gave up their lives
For nation and family, that we might survive


By Dan Atcheson (8/21/01)

I still can grow numb when I think of that night
But you were suffering, and I knew it was time
To you it was just a car ride with Dad
You didn’t know it would be your last

I pet you and talked as we drove to the vet
But you couldn’t hear me; you old ears were deaf
I talked of the good times and friendship we’d known
Of love that we’d shared in our warm little home

You tried so hard to show you were well
But you couldn’t fool me; your act didn’t sell
The doctor inquired, "Would you like some more time?"
"No! Get it done, or I’ll change my mind!"

I held your head and kissed your sweet face
While the needle’s pink venom ran through your veins
I cried as I told you that it was okay
I felt your last breath as your life slipped away
Wrapped in a blanket I drove you back home
I pet your still body, as mine became numb
Like a big baby, asleep in my arms
I carried you out to your grave in the yard

Gently I covered and concealed you with earth
While holding back tears; God knew how it hurt
When it was over, the funeral complete
I fell to my knees and began to weep

When I had no more tears left to cry
I lifted my eyes and looked toward the sky
I whispered a prayer thanking God for the years
He’d loaned you to me and good times that we’d shared

Deep in my heart I know you’re alive
You’ve simply journeyed to the "other side"
Crossing a bridge to heaven beyond
Passing from my loving arms into God’s

                  By Daniel Atcheson
                     Copyright 2001

I'll never forget that one Christmas eve
When loved ones gathered 'round a huge Christmas tree
With lights turned down low, the fireplace burned bright
And love warmed the chill of that cold wintry night

The grownups shared stories with laughter and smiles
But I wasn't listening, as a child of five
A record was playing; a "seventy-eight"
It caught my attention; I thought of my fate

Gene Autry's "Santa is Coming to Town"
Made me aware that my sins had been found
Why Santa knows all, I held him in awe
And this was my first concept of God

With feverish pitch, the excitement ran high
Someone's reported that Santa's nearby!
The moment of truth! A knock at the door!
Oh goodness, don't lose it! Don't faint to the floor!

In a red velvet suit and pink rosy face
A white flowing beard, and huge pillowcase
As big as a truck, and tall as a door
He jingled some bells and laughed "Ho-ho-ho!"

He entered the house to a welcoming cheer
Hello Santa Clause! We're glad that you're here!
Some of us stood, so bravely and strong
But one child did scream, and ran to his mom
He strolled through the house and up to the tree
And there he stopped, kneeling down on one knee
He beckoned the children to come to his side
And my fears took flight, as his arms opened wide

We'd all tried so hard to be good girls and boys
But our consciences told us we'd not earned a toy
Yet Santa showed mercy, our crimes were excused
He said, "You are good, and I love all of you."

He reached in his pillowcase bulging with toys
One for each girl, and one for each boy
Although we'd been bad, he saw us as nice
And this was my first concept of Christ

He knew us by name; what they say must be true
Santa knows all, yet he's merciful, too
The only requirement for getting a gift
Was believing in him as an innocent kid

So much of my life has changed since those days
I've lived many years and my hair's turning gray
But one thing won't change 'till the day that I die
I'll see God and Christmas through the eyes of a child

By Dan Atcheson (8/30/01)

We returned from the vet; my dog was not well
He might have a month, maybe days, who can tell?
The thought of his death cut deep like a knife
We’re nearing the end of my best friend’s life!

Filled with dismay, frustration and grief
I began to question my basic beliefs
Suddenly grief was eclipsed by fear
I’m going to test God! Is He real!? Does he care!?

I trembled and thought, "Don’t play foolish games.
You’re messing with God, and testing your faith!"
But something compelled me to finish this deed
Nothing could stop me; I had to proceed


I fetched up my Bible and wiped off the dust
I randomly chose and page and a verse
"Blessed are they that mourn," He decreed
"For they shall be comforted." He was talking to me!

I’d only one chance, I tell you the truth
In thirty-one thousand, one hundred and two!
It was the only verse in the Book
That answered my needs; it wasn’t dumb luck

God's filled with tenderness, patience and love
He’s not far away in heaven above
He hears every prayer; He knows every need
I know without doubt that He lives within me!



Baby do you think that they will miss us when we're gone?
All your lovely images, the poetry and songs?
We tried so hard to bring a smile to everybody's face
And truly boy I do believe, 'twas done through God's sweet grace

Like shooting stars we blazed a brilliant trail across the sky
Just two guys who shared their love, their dreams and private lives
But meteors so soon burn dim and disappear from sight
Leaving only memories and hopefully some smiles


It was fun my dear sweet friend, I'll ne'er forget those days
Posting poems and images, and carvings of your face
In our hearts we'll always love the dear friends that we've known
Acquaintances so dear to us, more valuable than gold

Now we go away alone to lead a quiet life
The curtain falls, the show is done and now we say "goodbye"
I hope that I'm remembered as a man who loved his God
And we my boy as patriots, a showman and bulldog


Click on the thumbnails to enlarge the images below:

Bulldog_Moon_7.jpg (35347 bytes)


 Copyright 1998-2003 by Dan Atcheson and Baby the Bulldog!