We pensioned off old Blue the dog
\nWhen old age got him down.
\nAnd we sent him in for company
\nTo old Grandma in the town.
\nBut while Granny was elated,
\nBlue still craved the great outdoors.
\nAnd he’d roam the town exploring
\nWhile old Granny did her chores.
\nSo it was this Sunday morning
\nBlue was fossicking about
\nThrough the paddocks near the township
\nOn his normal daily scout.
\nWhen a canine gourmet odour
\nOverpowered his sense of smell.
\nThough his eyesight had diminished
\nHis old sniffer still worked well.
\nAnd the source of his excitement
\nWas reposed down by the creek.
\nWhere a sheep had met his maker
\nFor the best part of a week.
\nFor its woolly corpse was spreading
\nAnd the air was far from fresh
\nFrom this rancid flyblown carcass
\nWith its seething greenish flesh.
\nIt was a dog’s idea of heaven
\nAnd old Blue, he rubbed and rolled
\nTill he ponged just like the sheep did
\nAnd with ecstasy extolled.
\nThen an idea formed within him
\nAs he gave a gentle tug,
\nAnd he found the carcass followed
\nLike a matted lumpy rug.
\nHe would take it home for later,
\nIt should last a week or two-
\nIf he stored it in his kennel
\nHe could keep his prize from view.
\nSo he gripped the carcass firmly,
\nProudly into town he went.
\nBut his load proved fairly heavy
\nAnd Blue’s energy soon spent.
\nAnd the only shade on offer
\nWas this building with a bell.
\nAnd he dragged his prize towards it
\nWith its flies and feral smell.
\nThen the dog and the sheep both rested
\nIn the front porch of the church.
\nAnd old Blue looked up the gangway
\nAt the parson on his perch.
\nHe was revving up the faithful
\nTo repent to save their worth
\nAnd said Satan was the culprit
\nFor all rotten things on earth.
\nAs he roared of fire and brimstone
\nAnd redemption for the throng,
\nUp the aisle came Satan’s presence
\nIn this God forsaken pong.
\nAnd they all cried “Hallelujah”
\nAnd they fell as one to pray.
\nBut by now old Blue had rested
\nAnd he hadn’t time to stay.
\nHe proceeded up the roadway
\nWith the woolly corpse in tow.
\nWith a shortcut through the nursing home
\nThe quickest way to go.
\nWhere the matron, in a panic
\nCounted heads in mortal fright.
\nWith a smell like that they’d surely lost
\nA patient through the night.
\nAnd the members at the bowls club
\nLowered all their flags half mast.
\nToffed their hats and stood in silence
\nFor the funeral going past.
\nBut Blue lugged his prize on homewards
\nTravelling past the bowling club.
\nTill he took a breather under
\nThe verandah of the pub.
\nThere old Boozing Bill was resting
\nSleeping off the night before.
\nTo await the Sunday session
\nWhen they opened up the door.
\nWhen a stench awoke his slumber
\nWhich was highly on the nose.
\nAnd he thought his pickled body
\nHad begun to decompose.
\nAnd he missed the Sunday session
\nWhen he ran home to his wife.
\nTo proclaim the shock announcement
\nHe was off the booze for life.
\nMeanwhile Blue could see Gran’s gateway
\nAt the far end of the street.
\nSo he started up the pavement
\nWith his ripe and tasty treat.
\nBut there was movement in the back streets
\nAs the town dogs sniffed in deep.
\nThey broke chains and climbed high fences
\nFor a piece of Blue’s dead sheep.
\nAnd Blue felt the road vibrating
\nFrom the stamp of canine feet,
\nAs this pack of thirty mongrels
\nCame advancing down the street.
\nBut he wasn’t into sharing,
\nSo he sought a quick escape
\nAnd he spied a nearby building
\nWith a door that stood agape.
\nThrough this door he sought asylum
\nBut his presence caused a shriek,
\nFor he’d chosen the local deli
\nThat was run by Nick the Greek.
\nAnd Blue shot beneath a table
\nWhere the sheep and he could hide.
\nBut the dog pack was relentless
\nAnd they followed him inside.
\nNow the table Blue had chosen
\nWas a double-booked mistake.
\nWith a law enforcement sergeant
\nSlipping coffee on his break.
\nAnd the sergeant sat bolt upright
\nWith a dog between his feet.
\nAnd his eyes began to water
\nFrom this dead decaying meat.
\nThen the sarge leapt up in horror
\nBut in haste he slipped and fell
\nFalling down amongst Blue’s mutton
\nWith it’s all embracing smell.
\nAnd he lay, somewhat bewildered
\nIn the gore, flat on his back,
\nWhen the mongrel pack descended
\nIn a frenzied dog attack.
\nWith first thought self-preservation
\nFrom the rows of teeth he faced,
\nThe sarge fumbled for his pistol
\nIn its holster at his waist.
\nThere were muffled bangs and yelping
\nAs the random shots rang out.
\nAnd a whine of bouncing bullets
\nOff the brickwork all about.
\nAs he blasted in a panic
\nFrom beneath the blood and gore
\nA front window and the drink fridge
\nWere both added to the score.
\nAnd the cappaccino maker
\nCopped a mortal wound and died.
\nHissing steam, it levitated,
\nFalling frothing on its side.
\nAnd Nick the Greek, the owner,
\nGrabbed a shotgun in his fright.
\nBlasting into the confusion
\nOf the frantic canine fight.
\nAt short range it wasn’t pretty.
\nDogs were pasted on the wall.
\nThere was laminex in splinters,
\nClouds of dog hair covered all.
\nThen the smoke detector whistled
\nWith the gunsmoke in the air,
\nWhich set off the sprinkler’s system
\nAnd a siren gave a blare.
\nAnd the dogs that still were breathing,
\nMost dismembered and unwell,
\nDragged themselves away in terror
\nFrom this pizza shop from Hell.
\nAnd the echoes still were ringing
\nWhen beneath the dying heap,
\nThere emerged old Blue, still dragging
\nAt the remnants of his sheep.
\nIts head was gone and sev’ral legs
\nBut it hadn’t lost its smell.
\nIn the armistice that followed
\nBlue decided not to dwell.
\nHe leapt the fence at Grandma’s
\nFor his feet had sprouted wings –
\nPure adrenalin propelled him
\nFleeing dogs and guns and things.
\nNow old Gran had influenza
\nAnd had lost her sense of smell.
\nWith Blue’s sheep now in the garden
\nThat was probably just as well.
\nAnd she looked out from her front fence
\nAt the town in disarray.
\nAt an ambulance, police cars
\nAnd the RSPCA
\nThen the fire brigade rushed past her,
\nFlashing lights of rosy hue.
\nAnd she hugged the old dog tightly –
\nHe’d protect her, would old Blue.
\n“You just stay here like a good dog,”
\nGrandma told him with a frown.
\n“Cause you’ve no idea the trouble
\nYou can get into in town”.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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 … <\/p>\n