Oh, I used to have a doggie and I called him little Gomez
'cause he was a Mexican Chihuahua
There wasn't much to him but what there was was all cojones
He sure was a randy little fella
Large dogs, small dogs were all the same to him
The canine equivalent of Errol Flynn
At the drop of a sombrero he'd jump up and get stuck in
Taking Gomez out for walkies was embarassin'

I remember one day in the park his tally rose by four
An enviable score he was amassing
A pair of high-strung poodles and an Irish Labrador
And a [wombat|raccoon] who just happened to be passing
I tried every way to curb his carnal appetite
I kept him on a leash by day, I locked him up at night
I even put salt peter in his chunky meaty bites
But the only thing that might have worked was Kryptonite

Then came the fateful day when he tried to consummate
A liaison with a Saint Bernard from Dublin
And although he was quite clearly fighting well above his weight
He didn't let that minor detail stop him
He nearly pulled it off, oh, what an acrobat!
But the bitch got bored and down she sat
Well, they say that after making love you sometimes feel quite flat
I'm sure that little Gomez would agree with that
I buried Gomez in the park, his happy hunting ground
A sad but fitting finale
I had to make a grave that was rather flat and round
'Cause he looked like squashed tamale
But oh, how I missed my wee Chihuahua chum
I went down to the pet shop to find another one
I went there feeling happy, but I left there feeling glum
Because the man behind the counter loved corny puns

And he said "Yes, we have no Chihuahuas we have no Chihuahuas today
We have Alsations, Dalmatians, the fruits of a flirtation
Twixt a half-blind Pekingese and a toupe
But yes, we have no Chihuahuas, we have no Chihuahuas today"