The Chase
Posted: Mon Jul 18, 2016 3:31 pm
THE CHASE
To Uncle Jim this owning dogs was part of station life,
and one must feed these canine friends to keep them out of strife.
The bush it holds a nat'ral source in plentiful supply;
of course I mean the kangaroo, though Greenies they would cry.
These animals, though lovable, can breed so very fast
and culling them is common sense so all the feed can last.
Old Jim had no qualms shooting them, though followed just one rule.
You used the meat to feed the dogs; to Jim that wasn't cruel.
Jim asked me once to help him out by culling out some 'roos,
suggesting we should go by horse and kindly let me choose.
The chestnut mare would suit me fine, while he would ride his grey
and as we rode he checked the gun that he would use that day.
When suddenly in front of us a mob of 'roos appear,
which saw Jim jump to action and the chase was on I fear.
His right hand gripped the rifle as he kept the 'roos in sight,
though as he raced among the trees the 'roos all took to flight.
The mare and I tried keeping up and did our very best,
but chasing 'roos was new to me and put me to the test.
Then up ahead I saw a sight that sent me rather numb,
old Jim was racing his old grey towards this solid gum.
He'd surely seen the obstacle that loomed there in his path
and changing course was on the cards or face the aftermath.
Poor Jim just looked so mesmerised and I watched on in dread
when suddenly the grey ducked left while Jim sailed straight ahead.
His flight was real spectacular and quite a sight to see
though quickly shortened by the fact his frame then hit the tree.
The impact would have killed most men and put them in their grave,
but Jim just staggered to his feet and did the old boy rave.
"Where is my flam'in rifle boy and fetch that rotten horse!"
While at the time what crossed my mind was ... are you hurt? Of course.
"Don't stand there gawking lad," yelled Jim, which gave me quite a fright.
So off I went to fetch his grey now racing out of sight.
His grey horse was too good for me and just said toodle-oo,
so I rode back to where Jim was to see what I should do.
He was not happy with the news and really blew his lid,
then took my mare and galloped off while mumbling, "Useless kid!"
Before too long old Jim was back and riding 'cross the flat,
upon his grey, the mare in tow and straight'ning out his hat.
I said to Jim, "You got him eh?" As what else could you say.
Then off we rode and left the 'roos; they'd live another day.
Gran gave old Jim a dressing down then sat him on a stool,
where patiently she dressed his wounds, while mumbling, "Silly fool."
She fin'lly marched her son to bed, as he was tuckered out.
The dogs ate biscuits that cold night, the 'roos relieved no doubt.
© Merv Webster
From the book Tales of Uncle Jim.
To Uncle Jim this owning dogs was part of station life,
and one must feed these canine friends to keep them out of strife.
The bush it holds a nat'ral source in plentiful supply;
of course I mean the kangaroo, though Greenies they would cry.
These animals, though lovable, can breed so very fast
and culling them is common sense so all the feed can last.
Old Jim had no qualms shooting them, though followed just one rule.
You used the meat to feed the dogs; to Jim that wasn't cruel.
Jim asked me once to help him out by culling out some 'roos,
suggesting we should go by horse and kindly let me choose.
The chestnut mare would suit me fine, while he would ride his grey
and as we rode he checked the gun that he would use that day.
When suddenly in front of us a mob of 'roos appear,
which saw Jim jump to action and the chase was on I fear.
His right hand gripped the rifle as he kept the 'roos in sight,
though as he raced among the trees the 'roos all took to flight.
The mare and I tried keeping up and did our very best,
but chasing 'roos was new to me and put me to the test.
Then up ahead I saw a sight that sent me rather numb,
old Jim was racing his old grey towards this solid gum.
He'd surely seen the obstacle that loomed there in his path
and changing course was on the cards or face the aftermath.
Poor Jim just looked so mesmerised and I watched on in dread
when suddenly the grey ducked left while Jim sailed straight ahead.
His flight was real spectacular and quite a sight to see
though quickly shortened by the fact his frame then hit the tree.
The impact would have killed most men and put them in their grave,
but Jim just staggered to his feet and did the old boy rave.
"Where is my flam'in rifle boy and fetch that rotten horse!"
While at the time what crossed my mind was ... are you hurt? Of course.
"Don't stand there gawking lad," yelled Jim, which gave me quite a fright.
So off I went to fetch his grey now racing out of sight.
His grey horse was too good for me and just said toodle-oo,
so I rode back to where Jim was to see what I should do.
He was not happy with the news and really blew his lid,
then took my mare and galloped off while mumbling, "Useless kid!"
Before too long old Jim was back and riding 'cross the flat,
upon his grey, the mare in tow and straight'ning out his hat.
I said to Jim, "You got him eh?" As what else could you say.
Then off we rode and left the 'roos; they'd live another day.
Gran gave old Jim a dressing down then sat him on a stool,
where patiently she dressed his wounds, while mumbling, "Silly fool."
She fin'lly marched her son to bed, as he was tuckered out.
The dogs ate biscuits that cold night, the 'roos relieved no doubt.
© Merv Webster
From the book Tales of Uncle Jim.