I update this blog far too infrequently. Life just seems to get in the way I guess.

The other day, I was searching for a poem my dad wrote about his working dogs, when I got to thinking about my working dogs. one thing led to another, so I decided to write my own poem about my own working dogs and here it is. I still haven't found dad's yet tho....

The Kelpie

 

The sun is rising slowly through the mulga and the box

The day is slowly dawning over parched and broken rocks

The sheep they need a shifting as the waters cutting out

It’ll kill off all the cattle lest the rains don’t break the drought

 

We have no choice but shift them to find some more sparse feed

But the day is getting hotter and there’s not much of a breeze

We drift around them slowly as we look over the mob

A streak of red shoots to the lead, a little kelpie dog

 

It’s Joolia, the kelpie, a mighty little hound

Out the front and in the lead is where she will be found

She’ll set ‘em and she’ll block ‘em as we walk the stock away

She’ll drift and block and tuck them in and do it all the day

 

And as the heat is rising and the mob, it starts to break,

A call will rise for Sophie and the job will be OK

The black and tan trooper, bred down in the south

A faithful, loyal worker who will never let you down

 

But now we steady down as we’ve reached the end at last,

We count the mob out through the gate to our last patch of grass

We wait and hope and hold our breath for the coming of the rains

When once again the stock grow fat out on the western plains

 

A bang, a crack a deafening roar as down comes thunderous rain

We wait to see at daylight how much water in the gauge

The rain keeps slowly falling over coming weeks and days

The grass it is returning to the verdant western plains

 

The wool is bold and lustrous now on the backs of robust sheep

The cows are fat and shiny and the calves are big and sleek

We’ll have to muster in the mob and draft and shear and brand

They’ll be fast now through the mulga as they are brought to hand

 

They streak up through the ridges and down along the creek,

It’s time to send the big guns in and send in Boy and Dee

The black and brown will block the lead and turn the mob right back

They’ll use the tooth to turn them they won’t cut them any slack.

 

And trigger too will back them up and block and push and drive

There’s not a beast outrun her although many have but tried

The little streak of lightning a jet of darkest black

She’s one of the all rounders who’ll give anything a crack.

 

And let’s not forget our Lilly, the sister of streak

She’s a tough but gentle trooper who is nimble on her feet

She looks all sweet an innocent as she as she keeps the mob along

But she’ll bite the bloody bastards if they’re taking far too long

 

I have no time for trial dogs, there’s no secret in that fact

They worry all about the looks and how they move and act.

My Kelpies style is ugly and the job looks bloody rough

But of style, and points and prancing, I couldn’t give a stuff.

 

I’d be stuffed without my kelpies, of that there is no doubt

For without them I’d be busted up with bikes all smashed about

My mutts are worth a dozen men, they’re loyal, straight and true

They never ask for nothing  ‘cept a bag or two of food

 

So please don’t be offended if I turn down the request

Of a rough and tumble ringer who claims to be the best

For I’m sure my dogs will show him up and leave him looking dumb

And they’re always there to help me, they never leave my run

 

 

So through the drought and through the floods and all that in between

My dogs will stand beside me as a solid working team

I know they’re not the best of breed, of that there is no doubt

But they’ll do for a close second, oh yes “KELPIE” is the shout.