'You can talk about yer sheep dorgs,' said the man from Allan's Creek,
'But I know a dorg that simply knocked 'em bandy!-
Do whatever you would show him, and you'd hardly need to speak;
Owned by Daley, drover cove in Jackandandy.
'We was talkin' in the parlour, me and Daley, quiet like,
When a blow-fly starts a-buzzin' round the ceilin',
Up gets Daley, and he says to me, "You wait a minute Mike,
And I'll show you what a dorg he is at heelin'"
'And an empty pickle-bottle was a-standin' on the shelf,
Daley takes it down and puts it on the table,
Amd he bets me drinks that blinded dorg would do it by himself---
And I didn't think as how as he was able!
'Well, he shows the dorg the bottle, and he points up to the fly,
And he shuts the door and says to him---"Now Wattle!"
And in less than fifteen seconds, spare me days, it ain't a lie,
That there dorg had got the inseck in the bottle.'
If you have any suggestions or questions regarding these poems please email me