Ronnie

This is a tale of Ronnie, a kelpie pure bred

This is the tale of Ronnie, who wasn’t quite right in the head

His siblings became sheepdogs, their regard always held high

But this is the tale of Ronnie, who seemed to have far too much eye.

 

While the litter scrapped and ran, Ronnie would stop and stand

Watching the cat snooze on a garden seat

He’d sit there all day while the other pups played

Edging closer to that cats out stretched  feet.

 

Learn he never did, what secrets those feet hid

But he still bears the scar that shows

Just one little lick, make a cats feet strike quick

He’s lucky to have kept his nose

 

Chooks were up next, to my Mothers great vex

He’d sit by the yard all day

Staring straight in, with a big dopey grin

The poor girls went right off the lay

 

The problem was solved, when a rooster got involved

While Ronnie was still a small tacker

Mum was most pleased, as poor Ronnie flee’d

With the rooster fair up his young clacker

 

Now some of those reading, might think I’m misleading

When I say a sheepdog he was not

For despite the good signs, we were surprised to find

With sheep he was rooted to the spot

 

His brothers would yap, his sisters would snap

Chasing the sheep around

But Ronnie stood still, like some half-witted dill

Not even making a sound

 

No matter our actions, he moved not a fraction

His eyes fixed on the old ewe

His top lip just trembled, and drooled till he resembled

One whose nest was short of a cuckoo

 

We persevered for months, despite having a hunch

A sheepdog he could never be called

We took him out on a bike, but he refused to alight

Cos sheep are easy to see from the board

 

We kept him for years, for despite what you might hear

Not all farmers are heartless and cruel

Never worked a day in his life,  a bullet would’ve saved us much strife

But it’s not his fault he’s a bloody tool

 

Then came the day, when there arrived a big Bay

A wild mare brought in from the rough

Flighty as hell, scared you could tell

This one was going to be tough

 

Try as we might, she would always take fright

Bolting at the slightest touch

We left her to roam, in the paddock near home

Thinking she’d never amount to that much

 

But this is the tale of Ronnie, a kelpie pure bred

This is the tale of Ronnie, who wasn’t quite right in the head

Other dogs stayed clear, knowing the risk of a quick kick

But this is the tale of Ronnie, the dog thick as two bricks

 

Ronnie saw the new Bay, and he sat there all day

Not even entering the yard

She saw him sit there, that wild young mare

And she instantly went onto her guard

 

But move he did not, and soon she forgot

The motionless dog on the fence

The days went past, and Ronnie’s patience did last

Till the mare became less and less tense

 

After a week went by, he decided to try

And get a bit nearer to that horse

He ducked under the rope, but despite his best hopes

The Bay fled down the paddock of course

 

But chase he did not, and she slowed to a trot

Tossing her head in the air

Still Ronnie stood fast, and as time went on past

The Bay forgot that dog with the stare

 

So imagine our shock, as to the paddock we rocked

To find Ronnie inside of the fence

He nuzzled the mare, who it seemed didn’t care

That the dog was short a few cents

 

He’d made her quite tame, with his little game

Of sneaking up to her back hoof

Personally I wouldn’t dare, to put my head there

But Ronnie was a bit of a goof

 

With the mare quite settled we mustered our mettle

And she became our very best ride

Nothing could spook her, she would never deter

And took it all in her stride

 

So this was the tale of Ronnie, a kelpie pure bred

This is the tale of Ronnie, who wasn’t quite right in the head

But we kept him for years, no matter how odd he did seem

For this is the tale of Ronnie, best horse whisperer I’ve ever seen

 

Now this tale is ending, but at the risk of offending

I think it needs to be said

To deal with a horse, as a matter of course

You need to be not right in the head




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