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william williams


Post by william williams » Fri Oct 17, 2014 10:26 am

A little fellow called DING

You see I was a lonely lad, many years ago
When my grand pa brought to me, a little dingo pup.
A furry little thing his eyes still tightly closed,
he said now treat him careful, but I’m sorry son, I must go.

I cared for him and feed him morning noon and night.
His eyes they soon opened, and his sight it followed then,
as he played there in my bedroom when my mother,
would allow it, when she saw that it was right.

He grew, and grew, a happy dog his colour reddish tan
and he slept beside my bedside, when I was sick at night,
and he kept a solemn vigil, always keeping me in sight.
Mum said he never made a mess, I think that was his plan.

Sickness it now plagued me, losing weight went hand in hand.
My hair fell out and I went gaunt, and then I lost my voice,
I lay there sick and sorry ‘twas something, I had no choice,
And that little dog he lay there quietly, waiting by my hand.

Old pop as I called him, and it seemed so long ago.
Came from the bush to see me by my bedside don’t you know.
I lay there when he entered, Ding was standing by my side,
he gave a little growl then wagged his tail to and fro.

Ding stood there by his side and licked his calloused hand
that dog that had his memories, of a bushman from the land.
The old man left from my bedside, for he had a job to do.
He rose and said, I’ll see you later, and left without ado.

And Ding my faithful friend never left my side,
as he laid so patiently and waited until better I did get.
My hair came back my voice did too and he stood there by my side,
a wild dog beside a growing boy, how better could it get

Now Ding, he never made a noise, weeell maybe just a growl
a silent mate he always was, a friend to pop and me.
Well old Pop he passed away in the year of ninety three,
and we gathered at the graveside, his many friends and family.

And Ding he sat beside me, a little whimper he did give,
as he sat beside the grave, that forlorn look he gave that told it all.
The wake it wasn’t fancy, old pop wouldn’t stand for that at all.
And that night, when all was quiet,

Ding sneaked out to the grave side, and gave a mournful howl,
Just like a true Dingo, he was saying his good bye.

Written by Bill Williams ©

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