At last my heart's an open door
And my secret love's no secret anymore ...looking down from our highest hill
This was the first
Poem I posted when I joined The Australian Bush Poets Association and was written about a little white Border Collie - our working dog Anushka Maree - Kennel name
Fiesta Anna.
Despite
its glitches - The Bitch from the Bush is still my favourite but over time as my writing improved with help from my peers and a degree of persistance from me Nush morphed into Nancy of the Overthrow a bit of a take off on Banjo's Clancy of the Overflow but done in the interest of rhyming poetry
NUSH –
THE BITCH FROM THE BUSH
Maureen Clifford © The Scribbly Bark Poet
My
bitch from the bush, whose pet name is Nush,
is as
white as vanilla ice cream.
When
out with the mob she is always top dog, the
best of a champion team.
She
never will scare 'em, or rip 'em, or tear 'em. They
seem to think she is a lamb.
When
it comes time to muster, with her best mate Buster,
she
brings home those ewes and those rams.
She is
a real beauty with blood lines that do me quite
proud when I’m working along.
She’s
willing and ready and holds the flock steady. She’s
smart and she seldom goes wrong.
With
the old dog retiring, the apprentice not firing,
Nushy
is the best chance we’ve got,
of
getting them mustered and covered and clustered
for
tomorrow we shear the whole lot.
So
let’s hear it for Nush, the bitch from the bush
she's
little, she's quick and she's smart.
She’s
a wonderful mutt, and I know in my gut
that
she’s blessed with a wonderful heart.
It's
hard taking chaff from old sheepmen who laugh
at her
coat that's as white as the snow.
But
all I've got to say at the end of the day
is how
little some smart people know.
Her
breeding is fine, this small girl of mine.
Her
father, Princes Wally by name.
Fiesta
Jodie her mum would be well known to some
due to her renowned sheep trialling fame.
"Keep
her out the house," these old men would grouse
"and
keep her quite firmly in hand.
Keep
her chained night and day, and don’t let her play."
We
were told by these men of the land.
But
when push comes to shove, she thrives on our love;
She’ll
work from the dawn until dark.
You
can treat your dogs well and not spoil them to hell;
let them
loose and you'll brighten their spark.
For
she's not one to shirk when it comes time for work;
she's
brilliant when working the mob.
Sheep
don't argue the toss, 'coz they know she's the boss.
This
girl is a pearl at her job.
So
give 'em their due. They work harder than you.
Let
some of those old wives' tales die.
For
they're your best mate when the mobs at the gate
and
you’re faced with a darkening sky.
Give them love and a bed; keep them warm and well
fed;
show respect
to them, give them their due.
At the
end of their days, let 'em soak up the rays;
for they've
given their best years to you.
Here's
to Sam and to Sophie, to Ralph, Red and Jodie,
to
Wally, old Buster and Nush.
Working
dogs of this land, they're the drover's right hand;
willing
workers who herd and who push
mobs
of sheep overland, whatever their brand,
for
the love of the work and of you.
They
are worth a man’s wages, dogs loyal and courageous,
the Kelpie, the Collie, the Blue.
The poem eventually morphed into the final product - where little Nushy became Nancy in
the interest of rhyming poetry
NANCY OF THE OVERTHROW.
Maureen Clifford © The Scribbly Bark Poet
A Border Collie, white and fancy, goes by the name
of Nancy,she
was born out on the ranges where the Iron bark thickly grows.
Her
Mum 'Fiesta Jodie' came in pup to 'Princes Wally'and
the pup was jokingly called Nancy of the overthrow.
The
farmer wasn't happy. It was getting close to shearing,
his bitch knocked up and cannot work and that's an awful blow.
He'd
three thousand head to muster and despite his bluff and bluster
he
relied far more on his dogs help than anyone would know.
The
pup's a little beauty with bloodlines fine that do me
proud
as punch. She is the smartest dog that I've seen in a while.
She is
lightweight, white and fluffy, but with her I'm always happy
and
her antics whilst out mustering they always make me smile.
And I
sometimes rather fancy that my little bitch, my Nancy,
has
been on earth before. Is another dog juxtaposed?
For
she knows just what to do and there is no discussion, true it
is in
her genes. When chasing sheep, she's
never indisposed.
In my
wildest flights of fancy I have visions of my Nancy
working
in the ring and trialling, beneath a judge’s stare.
As she
gets her three sheep yarded, my directions she's discarded
for
she's doing what comes naturally and works without a care.
She is
a vision splendid, waving tail and gait extended,
and
quickly blocks the ram and turns him,not an easy feat.
so I'm
filled with admiration when she has an altercation
with a
stroppy ram who thinks that she is small enough to beat.
For
she stops and gives him eye, and then creeps on him kind of sly.
He
stamps, he’s undecided. Should he go or should he stay?
Then
with lightening quick precision not a moments indecision,
she
swings on him quick and he decides he'd best be on his way.
As the
stock are slowly stringing, 'cross the paddock with the ringing
of the
lead sheep's bell somnolent tone on this the final push.
My
life is blessed and thrilling, and sweet Nancy is so willing.
I am
privileged to work alongside the Bitch from the Bush.
I oft’
take the time to ponder, as my gaze slowly wanders
'cross
the paddocks that surround me, full of fine Merino sheep.
Where
the air is unpolluted, without cell phones or loud music
and at
night when sheer exhaustion brings to me the sweetest sleep.
It is
a lucky man I am and I thank God once again
as I
enjoy simple pleasures that the city folk can’t know.
Now
out here on open acres with my sheep and dogs around me
I
share nature’s glorious gift with Nancy of the overthrow.
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