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Wednesday, 27 November 2013


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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sharon said...

this put a smile on my face. Great story.

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