'Ole Blue

'OLE BLUE'. Wuz out the near Wilcannia, Beyond the Darlin's reach, To 'unt for fox an' rabbits, Their skins wuz worth ten bob each, 'Ad this 'ole landrover see, An' a dorg we jest called Blue, S'mazing what that bloody dorg, Cood somow seem ta do. At mornin, wen we'd first wake up, A stacka kindlin there, He'd fetch it, every single day, Nornchlant, wivout a care. The billy, 'e kept fulla water, Bugger me, I dunno 'ow, We kept it inna fourty four, 'e Cooden lift no 'ow. 'E adda ave is breakfast tho', On the dot, six am each day, 'An ifin if 'e didn't, There wood be 'ell to pay. Ya see, we 'ad no guns or bullets, Jest Blue...anna knife, An a few rounds a fencin wire, Thats ow we lived our life. Now Blue, 'e was a fox dorg, An a damn good rabbiter too, 'E cood finda fox, even tho' Ya cooden see one in ya view 'E'd unt em outta scrub 'n logs, 'E'd chase the sods for miles, Then bring 'em down an kill 'em quick, Wiv tender dorggy smiles. 'E never caused 'em agony, 'E didden treat 'em rough, 'E jest went out, an did 'is job, Gord, them days wuz tough. We 'ad a 'ard time keepin up, when that 'ole bloke shot through, Arfter a fox or rabbit, 'E's a beaudy mate, true blue. We ate alotta rabbits then, Much to Blue's dismay, For 'im we adda grill 'em, Wooden eat 'em any other way. We called inta Marra Bore one day, Ta pick up mail 'n stores, An the boss bloke there, 'e tole us, 'E wuz 'avin trouble wiv wild boars. 'E arksed us if ole Blue wuz good, At catchin them wild pigs, We said,'Ya kiddin mate, 'E chases 'em jest fer gigs'. We waited until sundown, Fer them boars ta make a show, We snuck up close 's possible, Ta see that ole Blue go. Ole Blue's air, it stood on end, At the smell of them foul things, 'E took orf like a bullet, Yud think that dorg ad wings. 'E laid into em wiv is fangs They wuz squeelin, lotta grunts, That fella there, from Marra Bore, Cood see why we like pig 'unts. Ole Blue went round 'n round 'em, 'E snapped,'E snarled, 'E bit, They triedta gettim to the ground, But 'e was bloody fit. 'E wheeled 'em, an 'E bit 'em, 'E ducked 'n weaved 'n blocked, The dust grew like a bloody cloud, The yelps and squeelin awful loud. Jest when it wuz neely over, When we knew 'E 'ad 'em beat, That bloody Blue took orf ta Bourke, 'E cood smell a bitch on 'eat. Thank Gord the job was neely done, Them uge farocshus beasts, Wuz linin up wiv evil eyes, They thought they 'ad a feast. We beat 'em tho', we made it, To that line a ole man gums, I reckon, next time we're untin, We'll bring our bloody guns. Written December 15th, 2001 © on Dec 14 2001 09:48 PM PST, Patricia Rosenberg   0 • 14