Blue and the sheep

We pensioned off old Blue the dog

When old age got him down.

And we sent him in for company

To old Grandma in the town.

 

But while Granny was elated,

Blue still craved the great outdoors.

And he'd roam the town exploring

While old Granny did her chores.

 

So it was this Sunday morning

Blue was fossicking about

Through the paddocks near the township

On his normal daily scout.

 

When a canine gourmet odour

Overpowered his sense of smell.

Though his eyesight had diminished

His old sniffer still worked well.

 

And the source of his excitement

Was reposed down by the creek.

Where a sheep had met his maker

For the best part of a week.

 

For its woolly corpse was spreading

And the air was far from fresh

From this rancid flyblown carcass

With its seething greenish flesh.

 

It was a dog's idea of heaven

And old Blue, he rubbed and rolled

Till he ponged just like the sheep did

And with ecstasy extolled.

 

Then an idea formed within him

As he gave a gentle tug,

And he found the carcass followed

Like a matted lumpy rug.

 

He would take it home for later,

It should last a week or two -

If he stored it in his kennel

He could keep his prize from view.

 

So he gripped the carcass firmly,

Proudly into town he went.

But his load proved fairly heavy

And Blue's energy soon spent.

 

And the only shade on offer

Was this building with a bell.

And he dragged his prize towards it

With its flies and feral smell.

 

Then the dog and the sheep both rested

In the front porch of the church.

And old Blue looked up the gangway

At the parson on his perch.

 

He was revving up the faithful

To repent to save their worth

And said Satan was the culprit

For all rotten things on earth.

 

As he roared of fire and brimstone

And redemption for the throng,

Up the aisle came Satan's presence

In this God forsaken pong.

 

And they all cried "Hallelujah"

And they fell as one to pray.

But by now old Blue had rested

And he hadn't time to stay.

 

He proceeded up the roadway

With the woolly corpse in tow.

With a shortcut through the nursing home

The quickest way to go.

 

Where the matron, in a panic

Counted heads in mortal fright.

With a smell like that they'd surely lost

A patient through the night.

 

And the members at the bowls club

Lowered all their flags half mast.

offed their hats and stood in silence

For the funeral going past.

 

But Blue lugged his prize on homewards

Travelling past the bowling club.

Till he took a breather under

The verandah of the pub.

 

There old Boozing Bill was resting

Sleeping off the night before.

To await the Sunday session

When they opened up the door.

 

When a stench awoke his slumber

Which was highly on the nose.

And he thought his pickled body

Had begun to decompose.

 

And he missed the Sunday session

When he ran home to his wife.

To proclaim the shock announcement

He was off the booze for life.

 

Meanwhile Blue could see Gran's gateway

At the far end of the street.

So he started up the pavement

With his ripe and tasty treat.

 

But there was movement in the back streets

As the town dogs sniffed in deep.

They broke chains and climbed high fences

For a piece of Blue's dead sheep.

 

And Blue felt the road vibrating

From the stamp of canine feet,

As this pack of thirty mongrels

Came advancing down the street.

 

But he wasn't into sharing,

So he sought a quick escape

And he spied a nearby building

With a door that stood agape.

 

Through this door he sought asylum

But his presence caused a shriek,

For he'd chosen the local deli

That was run by Nick the Greek.

 

And Blue shot beneath a table

Where the sheep and he could hide.

But the dog pack was relentless

And they followed him inside.

 

Now the table Blue had chosen

Was a double-booked mistake.

With a law enforcement sergeant

Slipping coffee on his break.

 

And the sergeant sat bolt upright

With a dog between his feet.

And his eyes began to water

rom this dead decaying meat.

 

Then the sarge leapt up in horror

But in haste he slipped and fell

Falling down amongst Blue's mutton

With it's all embracing smell.

 

And he lay, somewhat bewildered

In the gore, flat on his back,

When the mongrel pack descended

In a frenzied dog attack.

 

With first thought self-preservation

From the rows of teeth he faced,

The sarge fumbled for his pistol

In its holster at his waist.

 

There were muffled bangs and yelping

As the random shots rang out.

And a whine of bouncing bullets

Off the brickwork all about.

 

As he blasted in a panic

From beneath the blood and gore

A front window and the drink fridge

Were both added to the score.

 

And the cappaccino maker

Copped a mortal wound and died.

Hissing steam, it levitated,

Falling frothing on its side.

 

And Nick the Greek, the owner,

Grabbed a shotgun in his fright.

Blasting into the confusion

Of the frantic canine fight.

 

At short range it wasn't pretty.

Dogs were pasted on the wall.

There was laminex in splinters,

Clouds of dog hair covered all.

 

Then the smoke detector whistled

With the gunsmoke in the air,

Which set off the sprinkler's system

And a siren gave a blare.

 

And the dogs that still were breathing,

Most dismembered and unwell,

Dragged themselves away in terror

From this pizza shop from Hell.

 

And the echoes still were ringing

When beneath the dying heap,

There emerged old Blue, still dragging

At the remnants of his sheep.

 

Its head was gone and sev'ral legs

But it hadn't lost its smell.

In the armistice that followed

Blue decided not to dwell.

 

He leapt the fence at Grandma's

For his feet had sprouted wings -

Pure adrenalin propelled him

Fleeing dogs and guns and things.

 

Now old Gran had influenza

And had lost her sense of smell.

With Blue's sheep now in the garden

That was probably just as well.

 

And she looked out from her front fence

At the town in disarray.

At an ambulance, police cars

And the RSPCA

 

Then the fire brigade rushed past her,

Flashing lights of rosy hue.

And she hugged the old dog tightly -

He'd protect her, would old Blue.

 

"You just stay here like a good dog,"

Grandma told him with a frown.

"Cause you've no idea the trouble

You can get into in town".

 

(Bob Magor)