AUSSIE TAILS
Posted: Mon Oct 05, 2015 11:26 am
AUSSIE TAILS … Maureen Clifford ©
The #ScribblyBark Poet
‘twas just a glimpse caught by his eye early one morning driving by
as through the fence he checked the stock noting they needed new lick blocks.
He saw the lamb, but not the ewe and saw the eagle hovering too
and thought he’d best go take a look – He hit the brakes and detour took.
The ewe had had an accident, got herself tangled in the fence
and now the old girl she was cast – her woollen locks the fence held fast.
He cut her free and pulled her up and trickled water from a cup
into her gasping mouth and said ‘ You’re bloody lucky you’re not dead.
Now be a dear and bugger off there’s corn and hay down in the trough
and don’t be doing things so rash – each time sheep die it costs me cash.’
The lamb that stood so quietly by its mother now pressed to her thigh
and bent its downy head to feed punching Mums belly in its greed.
The farmer smiled a life he’d saved – well two in fact, for eagles craved
the flesh of lambs, small bones to crunch they were indeed a favoured lunch
at lambing time. They came in droves and they were cunning, canny coves.
You rarely saw them through the year but come lambing time, they’d appear.
The #ScribblyBark Poet
‘twas just a glimpse caught by his eye early one morning driving by
as through the fence he checked the stock noting they needed new lick blocks.
He saw the lamb, but not the ewe and saw the eagle hovering too
and thought he’d best go take a look – He hit the brakes and detour took.
The ewe had had an accident, got herself tangled in the fence
and now the old girl she was cast – her woollen locks the fence held fast.
He cut her free and pulled her up and trickled water from a cup
into her gasping mouth and said ‘ You’re bloody lucky you’re not dead.
Now be a dear and bugger off there’s corn and hay down in the trough
and don’t be doing things so rash – each time sheep die it costs me cash.’
The lamb that stood so quietly by its mother now pressed to her thigh
and bent its downy head to feed punching Mums belly in its greed.
The farmer smiled a life he’d saved – well two in fact, for eagles craved
the flesh of lambs, small bones to crunch they were indeed a favoured lunch
at lambing time. They came in droves and they were cunning, canny coves.
You rarely saw them through the year but come lambing time, they’d appear.