Old Spirituals

I have a problem. Every single night of the week, I lose my manners and toss my doggy school education out the door. I practically throw myself on the floor and cry and pitch a hissy fit like you can not imagine.

I cry.

I whine.

I pant.

I itch.

I beg.

I bite.

I lick.

I bark.

Rinse, lather, repeat!

And Julie has taken to singing old spirituals to me, like this one:

Nobody knows the trouble that I've seen
Nobody knows my, my sorrow
Nobody knows the trouble that I've seen
Glory hall- glory hallelujiah!