Goin' Piggin'
In the back of the Ute, water bag and boots,
fencing wire, ratchet and chains,
a shovel and pick and a crowbar,
and a dead roos quite smelly remains.
A carton of beer, for the day will be hot,
and a tarp and some ropes in a box,
plus an esky of food, ice to keep the beer cold.
Today we're out hunting for hog.
Those darn pigs are breeding, it's been a good season,
and lambs, well there were quite a few.
But sneaking at night like the Devil in flight,
come big pigs who kill, maim and chew..
The tables will turn, for we're now set to learn,
those darn pigs a lesson or two.
The pig traps are set and tomorrow I bet,
that we'll catch quite a few with the roo.
Carnivorous beasts, with their sharp cloven feet,
and big tusks on the boars ugly head.
They're killers of stock, not good for a lot,
though the overseas market it's said,
sells them off as wild boar, that's all they're good for.
Pig shooters take them to the box.
The scourge of the nation, on each outback station,
along with the crow and the fox.
The suckers are cute, little pink and black brutes,
but there’s no place for sentiment here.
You have to remember they'll grow - come December
on BarBQ plates they appear.
We've had good dogs killed or at least their blood spilled,
by these demons of parry and thrust.
A good dog will hold them at bay till you get there
to get a head shot as you must.
They'll rip you to shreds if unwary you tread,
cross the paddocks, unfettered and free.
And you know you're in strife as you run for your life
without spotting a suitable tree.
It happened to me, the legs went into freeze.
I then let loose with a bloody great yell.
My two dogs that were chasing, now turned back, came racing
to protect their mistress as well.
In gumboots and raincoat, with big hat on head,
it must have been a comical sight.
There was no tree to climb and I doubt my behind
would have made the manoeuvre in flight.
So I jumped up and down, screeched and flapped all around,
and waved a big stick in the air.
The pig was quite startled, and I was scared witless
until my dogs finally got there.
So climb into the Ute. Got your rifle to shoot?
For today we're not out hunting bear.
But down near the creek we're intending to sneak
for we know that the pigs have been there.
They've ploughed up the paddock, like Ute's doing donuts
we've found some small hooves from a lamb.
The lamb count is down. Pigs have been going to town.
Tomorrow they'll be turned into ham.
© 2011, Maureen Clifford
