You wouldn’t rate The Creek an unsafe place to
play unless your dogginess invades; its then an
angel fears to tread domain with bandicoots too
braw to leave to be; so Massey has to chase or
wear the ridicule implied in Podge’s sneer - & if
one runs away you hunt it to its lair he says, an
honour for the only prey we found today - while
she guffaws at we; why you weren’t even there
Wasn’t far away he said - y’ went another track,
like a bandicoot I keep Th’ Creek in view, that’s
methodology th’ same as mine for you, - so we
were bound to meet sometime beside th’ deep,
and there the game became a chase at frantic
pace from creek across the road to far away
Last I hear is barking treed half-a-mile off to th’
east - sounds like Podge I would agree; but no
response to whistles bring relief, so I depart th’
scene - prepared for certain grief if neither are
asleep in bed by 6 pm, M’Lady’s back by then
and explanations need to have a happy end
I found th’ miscreants by driving Ute on tracks
you’d misconstrue as paths for hokum views -
they had come back to where their ‘coot had
recently vacated keen to start the race again -
that is until th’ Ute hove into sight; a ride they
knew - delight expressed in weary eyes
© 30 July 2015, I. D. Carswell
No comments:
Post a Comment