THought for the Day

Poetry Spot: Phillip Adams

Phillip Adams (1939 - ) is an Australian humanist, social commentator, broadcaster, public intellectual and farmer. He hosts Late Night Live, an Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC) program on Radio National four nights a week. He also writes a weekly column for The Weekend Australian. 

the following poem by Phillip Adams will be inexplicable to a lot of overseas readers becuase of its many local references but understandable to those living in Oz. (Enjoy, Noel).

I love this bloody country: a heartfelt poem

- Phillip Adams (2014)

I love this bloody country

this land of booze and honey

of Opera House and Harbour Bridge

of shearing shed ’n’ dunny

I love this bloody country

where the sea is full of sharks

where there’s redbacks on the toilet seat

where your car gets booked by narks

I love our bloody country

this island Gert by sea

of rabbit, snake and cane toad

and the eucalyptic tree

Where your pollies are all ratbags

either that or on the take

where it’s hard to tell the difference

between reality and Rake

Where your team gets trounced each Saturday

and your pub runs out of beer

where you’re bank-robbed by the CBA

and nagged by Germaine Greer

I love this bloody country

of drought and flood and fire

with asylum seekers welcomed

with lots of razor wire

Where bigotry is Brandis’d,

and tolerance? A mockery,

thanks to ranting, raving racists

in the ranks of our shock-jockery

I love this bloody country

this land we call Australia

which has an awful anthem

coz Australia rhymes with failure

Australian stories end in woe

Or in acute embarrassment

like Gallipoli and Burke & Wills

and Rolf’s revolting harassment

(Another woeful ending’s

in our national song

when a suicidal swaggie

drowns in a billabong.)

I love this bloody country

where nothing could be finer

than to have the place exported

by some rapacious miner

Our commonwealth of minerals

by legislative stealth

goes to Clives and Ginas

to create uncommon wealth

And while Gina counts her billions

we must count the cost

in budget cuts to everything

because of taxes lost

Once Australian megawealth

was the gift of the merino

now it comes from human sheep

fleeced in James’ casino

Why salute the Union Jack

on our patriotic rag?

a Dickies towel or galvo sheet

would make a prouder flag

(The Queen’s a nice old lady

but it’s really time to ditch her

– better that our head of state

was someone like Lowitja.)

I love this bloody country

where all our famous brands

from Vegemite to Qantas

are flogged to foreign lands

And where our trad Australian slang

(drongo, dinky-di ’n’ dingo)

is forgotten in the rush

to Coca-culture lingo

I love this bloody country

it really could be worse

when this ancient columnist

goes from bad to verse

Quote for the Day

Song Spot: Lola, Layla, Delilah and Khalila

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Lola: 

The song is about a boy who meets a girl (Lola) in a club who takes him home and rocks his world. The twist comes when we find out that Lola is a man. 

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Ray Davies has claimed that he was inspired to write "Lola" after Kinks manager Robert Wace spent a night in Paris dancing with a transvestite. Davies said of the incident, "In his apartment, Robert had been dancing with this black woman, and he said, 'I'm really onto a thing here.' And it was okay until we left at six in the morning and then I said, 'Have you seen the stubble?' He said 'Yeah', but he was too pissed to care, I think". 

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The line "You drink champagne and it tastes just like cherry cola" was recorded as "it tastes just like Coca-Cola." The British Broadcasting Company (BBC) refused to play it because of the commercial reference, so Ray Davies flew from New York to London to change the lyric and get the song on the air. 

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The Kinks probably weren't familiar with it, but an American song published in 1918 also mentions Lola and Coca-Cola. In "Ev'ry Day'll Be Sunday When The Town Goes Dry," we hear the line, "At the table with Lola they will serve us Coca-Cola." 

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Weird Al" Yankovic created a parody of the song called "Yoda": 

I met him in a swamp down in Dagoba 

Where it bubbles all the time like a giant carbonated soda 

S-O-D-A, soda 

I saw the little runt sitting there on a log 

I asked him his name and in a raspy voice he said "yoda" 

Y-O-D-A, Yoda 

Yo-yo-yo-yo Yoda 

Well, I've been around, but I ain't never seen 

A guy who looks like a muppet, but he's wrinkled and green 

Oh, my Yoda 

Yo-yo-yo-yo Yoda 

Well, I'm not dumb, but I can't understand How he can lift me in the air just by raising his hand 

Oh, my Yoda 

Yo-yo-yo-yo Yoda yo-yo-yo-yo Yoda 

Well, I left home just a week before 

And I've never ever been a Jedi before 

But Obi Wan, he set me straight, of course 

He said, "Go to Yoda and he'll show you the Force" 

Well I'm not the kind that would argue with Ben 

So it looks like I'm gonna start all over again 

With my Yoda 

Yo-yo-yo-yo 

Yoda yo-yo-yo-yo 

Yoda 

Yoda 

Yo-yo-yo-yo 

Yoda yo-yo-yo-yo 

Yoda 

So I used the Force 

I picked up a box 

I lifted some rocks 

While I stood on my head 

Well, I won't forget what Yoda said 

He said, "Luke, stay away from the darker side 

And if you start to go astray, let the Force be your guide" 

Oh, my Yoda 

Yo-yo-yo-yo Yoda 

"I know Darth Vader's really got you annoyed 

But remember, if you kill him, then you'll be unemployed" 

Oh, my Yoda 

Yo-yo-yo-yo Yoda 

Well, I heard my friends really got in a mess 

So I'm gonna have to leave Yoda, I guess 

But I know that I'll be coming back some day 

I'll be playing this part 'till I'm old and grey 

The long-term contract that I had to sign 

Says I'll be making these movies till the end of time 

With my Yoda 

Yo-yo-yo-yo Yoda yo-yo-yo-yo Yoda 

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Layla: 

Written by Eric Clapton, the song was inspired by a love story that originated in 7th-century Arabia and later formed the basis of The Story of Layla and Majnun by the 12th-century Persian poet Nizami Ganjavi, a copy of which had been given to Clapton. The book moved Clapton profoundly, because it was the tale of a young man who fell hopelessly in love with a beautiful, young girl, went crazy and so could not marry her. The song was further inspired by Clapton's then unrequited love for Pattie Boyd, the wife of his friend and fellow musician George Harrison of the Beatles. 

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Boyd divorced Harrison in 1977 and married Clapton in 1979 during a concert stop in Tucson, Arizona. Harrison was not bitter about the divorce and attended Clapton's wedding party with fellow Beatles Ringo Starr and Paul McCartney. Clapton left Boyd for actress Lory Del Santo (with whom he had his son, Conor) in 1985 and they were divorced in 1988. 

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In an article published in The Guardian December 13, 2008, Pattie said: "I wasn't so happy when Eric wrote 'Layla,' while I was still married to George. I felt I was being exposed. I was amazed and thrilled at the song - it was so passionate and devastatingly dramatic - but I wanted to hang on to my marriage. Eric made this public declaration of love. I resisted his attentions for a long time - I didn't want to leave my husband. But obviously when things got so excruciatingly bad for George and me it was the end of our relationship. We both had to move on.” 

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According to Bobby Whitlock, who was in the band and good friends with both Harrison and Clapton: "I was there when they were supposedly sneaking around. You don't sneak very well when you're a world figure. He was all hot on Pattie and I was dating her sister. They had this thing going on that supposedly was behind George's back. Well, George didn't really care. He said, 'You can have her.' That kind of defuses it when Eric says, 'I'm taking your wife' and he says, 'Take her.' They got married and evidently, she wasn't what he wanted after all. The hunt was better than the kill. That happens, but apparently Pattie is real happy now with some guy who's not a guitar player. Good for her and good for Eric for moving on with his life. George got on with his life, that's for sure." 

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The song was originally released by Clapton’s blues rock band Derek and the Dominos, as a track on the 1970 album Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs. It was a flop but Clapton performed a slow, acoustic version for an MTV Unplugged concert in 1992. It was released as a single and made #12 in the US, getting lots of airplay on pop, rock, and adult contemporary radio stations. This version also won a Grammy for Best Rock Song. 

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Hey There Khalilah:

You know that song Hey There Delilah? There's a parody on YouTube that is quite funny and worth watching/listening to, even if not strictly PC. Click on the following link, it’s had over 8 million views: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hMqTKA8BxvE 

Here are the lyrics: 

Hey there, Khalilah, what's it like in Baghdad City? 

I'm 3,000 miles away but girl tonight you're looking pretty 

Can't you see? 

You're looking really hot, baby. Literally. 

Hey there, Khalilah, I am at my latest booking 

But I'm writing you tonight to say how much I miss your cooking 

So I sob. 

Wipe all my tears up with a mop. There's no kabob. 

Oh, it's how you cook the meat. How you cook the meat. 

Hey there Khalilah, you stay good and cook some coosa 

Til I'm back there making money at the Improv in Falluja 

Give it time. 

I'm bombing really bad this time. No, not that kind. 

Hey there, Khalilah, if I must eat one more Twinkie 

Well I might just have to lick my arm and then bite off my pinky 

What a scene. The only Arab food I see's 

Attached to me 

Oh, it's how you cook the meat. How you cook the meat. 

3,000 miles is far away, but I just want kabob today 

I'd eat it all up with a knife and fork. 

Why am I so far from you? All they have here is bar-b-que 

Which would be good except I don't eat pork. 

The ketchup here is really bad, the mustard's not a deadly gas 

This pizza box tastes better, that's for sure 

And it's cardboard 

Hey there, Khalilah, you're tahini on falafal 

No, you're not sesame paste but girl I just can't eat without you 

So you know. I'll have kabob when I get home. 

And chug rose water like a pro 

Cuz I do not like Domino's 

Oh no I don't.

Quote for the Day

More Rate My Plate

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Rate My is an online community of members that like to share, via photographs and comments. whatever is on their dinner plate.  The group has over 500,000 members.

Below are selected pics and comments from the Facebook page at:

https://www.facebook.com/pg/RateMyPlateNow/posts/?ref=page_internal

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Ostrich Egg with Soldiers by Jason T:

 Comments:

Yeast infection with slabs of cardboard. Lovely xx

Is that breakfast for the whole family...

If that Sports Direct mug is the same as mine it holds approximately 5 gallon of coffee, yet its dwarfed by the egg 😱!.....my point is that somewhere there is an Ostrich that urgently needs stitches!!!!

How did you manage to overcook an egg the size of a beachball?!

I could build a bridge to New Zealand with the amount of toast you have there.

One, you need a new tea towel, two, that egg’s well over cooked and looks like a bouncy ball, three, your toast is way too cooked

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Homemade Scotch Eggs for Breakfast by Deepall K:

Very similar to the one I had a couple of hundred thousand years ago:

Before you eat it, best check there isn’t one of these behind you. She wouldn’t be happy.

Mmm, burnt crusty eyeballs. My favourite breakfast treat as well 🤷‍♀️

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

Then along came Deepali

With his Scotch egg recipe

Of ingredients unknown

And poor Humpty was never the same again😂

That looks like the one that fell behind the cooker 10 years ago..😂

Looks like Scotch Egg 24 hours after it was eaten

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Full English by Kelly S:

Full? As in where’s the rest of my breakfast?

That'll be lovely when the rest arrives.

🎵 Don’t go bacun my heart.. Egg couldn’t if I fried.. 🎶

You've led a very sad life if this is what you call a full English!

That is a breakfast full of nothing more than misery and tears.

Maybe 1 or 7 items missing but I see you had plenty of marg!!!

Where's the sosigs, black pudding, beans, tomatoes, mushrooms, hash browns and a proper fried slice.... What a great disappointment your FULL English is

That reminds me of the time I had severe depression

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My Tea is making faces at me by Chris H:

Such a culinary delight. I can see at least 3 or 4 different meal types in that one pan. Well done you sir

I read that as "my tea is made of faeces"

And we are all here sat making faces at your tea

I love the almost scientific removal of all evidence of moisture - fabulous

If ever I saw a face praying for death, this is it. Reminds me of the closing scene of The Fly.

For a second there I thought it was a picture of mars from a distance 😮

Looks like a victim of Chernobyl.

"Making faces?" It's practically screaming at you to put it out of it's misery.

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These Sosigis were Delicious by Georgia F:

 My thoughts and prayers are with your dog at this difficult time.194

Amazing how you make a simple task look so bad

My dog makes something similar, each morning. I tend to just bag them and bin them.

Mmmmmm a plate of lepers fingers. Yum.

I find those in my garden.

Made by cats

They probably were delicious when you ate them... they look considerably less delicious now after passing through your digestive tract....

Christ on a bike, I’ve seen more appetising pox scabs

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Homemade Curry with a couple of English Naans by Jordan T:

I’m so jealous of your amazing curry! Looks like my toilet this morning!

Loving the subtle name change for bread and butter.....naan bread! very imaginative Jordan T, you’ll go far

I gave that to my dog once and he threw it back up, it looked exactly the same as before.

That’s not a curry - it’s Irish bloody stew!!!

Tinned curry with bread and fucking butter

The tin of Chum kinda gives it away plus the Aldi sliced bread...but good shout for throwing everyone a target. Hope the dog enjoyed it.....

Wow, what a lovely piece of disappointment were having. noice.

Curry with your Naan’s incontinence pad . Lovely

Curry and naan? Do you think we are ‘stew-pid’?

Thought for the Day

Aesop's Fables: The Ass and the Purchaser

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Aesop's Fables, or the Aesopica, is a collection of fables credited to Aesop, a slave and storyteller believed to have lived in ancient Greece between 620 and 564 BCE. Of diverse origins, the stories associated with his name have descended to modern times through a number of sources and continue to be reinterpreted in different verbal registers and in popular as well as artistic media.  The fables originally belonged to the oral tradition and were not collected for some three centuries after Aesop's death. By that time a variety of other stories, jokes and proverbs were being ascribed to him.

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The Ass and the Purchaser

A man wished to purchase an ass, and agreed with its owner that he should try him before he bought him.

He took the ass home, and put him in the barnyard with his other asses, upon which he left all the others, and joined himself at once to the most idle and the greatest eater of them all.

The man put a halter on him, and led him back to his owner, saying: I do not need a trial; I know that he will be just such another as the one whom he chose for his companion.

Moral:

People are known by the company they keep.

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Which reminds me of the lyrics to a 1930’s song:

'Twas an evening in November

As I very well remember

I was strolling down the street in drunken pride

But my knees were all a-flutter

So I sat down in the gutter

When a pig came up and lay down by my side.

We sand “Never mind the weather

Just as long as we’re together”

When a lady passing by was heard to say

"You can tell a man who boozes

By the company he chooses,"

So the pig got up and slowly walked away!

Quote for the Day

Continuing: Photos of Historical Events That Will Give you a New Perspective

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Photos and text from:

https://playjunkie.com/articleid-435345677/4/?dai=5ygvRV023KUkiscU828cK

Additional comments by moi.

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Ray of Joy:

World War II ended in 1945, but it took a while for Europe to recover from all the destruction and carnage.

Each and every country suffered a great financial depression in the years to come, including Austria. This country was in such a deplorable financial shape that the citizens were on the brink of starvation by 1947.

That might explain why this little boy, living at an orphanage in Austria, was head over heels after getting a new pair of shoes.

Comment: 

The picture was first published in LIFE magazine on December 30, 1946, with the following caption: 

For many of Europe’s children there was a Santa Claus this Christmas. When a big box from the American Red Cross arrived at Vienna’s Am Himmel orphanage, shoes and coats and dresses tumbled out. Like the youngster (above), the children who had seen no new clothes throughout the war smiled to high heaven. But for thousands of other European children there was no Santa Claus. When a boatload of illegal Jewish immigrants arrived at Haifa, Palestine recently, two Polish children (opposite) got separated from their parents. Tears filled the eyes of the boy, and his wan sister clutched him protectively. They were later reunited with their parents, but the whole family was shipped to Cyprus.  

https://www.reddit.com/r/OldSchoolCool/comments/5jwco6/boy_receiving_a_new_pair_of_shoes_at_an_orphanage/

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Mussolini is Watching You:

This may look like one of the photos you only get to see in dystopian films, but it’s actually something than happened in reality. This picture was taken in front of Palazzo Braschi, which once served as the headquarters of Benito Mussolini’s National Fascist Party.

This Italian dictator was no stranger to using propaganda to get voters on his side, and this bizarre Orwellian set-up from 1934 is one of the most notable examples of his “advertising techniques”. It apparently worked, since he ended up receiving 99.84% of the votes that year.

Comment: 

The building in the picture is Palazzo Braschi in Rome, the headquarters of the Fascist Party Federation (the local one, not the national Party headquarters). It was not always covered up like that; this set-up was displayed for the 1934 elections, in which Italians were called to vote either for or against the Fascist representatives list. The “SI SI…” lettering (meaning “Yes Yes…”) was propaganda for one of the two plebiscite elections held during the Fascist Regime, where electors didn’t vote for individual parties (there wasn’t any but the Fascist one), neither for single candidates, but just voted “Yes” or “No” to a single list of candidates presented by the Duce himself.  

The voting procedure used two ballots and two envelopes; the yes ballot was in the colors of the Italian flag with fascist symbols, while the no ballot was a white sheet. The voter had to place the ballots in envelopes, put his chosen ballot in the ballot box and return the discarded one to the voting supervisors, de facto allowing them to check what each person had voted. The list put forward was ultimately approved by 99.84% of voters. The overwhelming majority provoked Benito Mussolini to dub the election the “second referendum of Fascism”.  

https://rarehistoricalphotos.com/headquarters-fascist-party-1934/

(Does anyone else look at this and see ISIS repeated over and over?)

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Here Comes the Sphinx:

Seeing the Great Sphinx of Giza is one of the items on everyone’s bucket list and it’s Egypt’s biggest tourist attraction. This monumental limestone statue was inspired by a mythical creature, with a human head and the body of a lion.

Discovering it in its full glory wasn’t easy and there was a long period of time when people weren’t even aware of its existence.

It’s believed that the sphinx was built by ancient Egyptians circa 2558–2532 BC, and this photo shows it being partially excavated back in the 1860s.

Comment: 

What happened to the Sphinx’s nose? Legends have passed over hundreds of years regarding the simple omission in this photograph of the Sphinx and the Pyramid of Khafre, part of the Giza Pyramid (or Great Pyramid) complex in Egypt. Where is the Sphinx’s nose? Many of us have heard the tale that a cannonball fired by Napoleon’s soldiers hit the nose and caused it to break off. Sketches of the Sphinx by the Dane Frederic Louis Norden were created in 1737 and published in 1755, well before the era of Napoleon. However, these drawings illustrate the Sphinx without a nose and clearly contradicts the legend. So what really happened? The Egyptian Arab historian al-Maqrīzī wrote in the 15th century that the nose was actually destroyed by a Sufi Muslim named Muhammad Sa'im al-Dahr. In 1378 CE, Egyptian peasants made offerings to the Great Sphinx in the hope of controlling the flood cycle, which would result in a successful harvest. Outraged by this blatant show of devotion, Sa'im al-Dahr destroyed the nose and was later executed for vandalism. Whether this is absolute fact is still debatable.  

-        Smithsonian Journeys
https://www.smithsonianjourneys.org/blog/photo-what-happened-to-the-sphinxs-nose-180950757/

Thought for the Day

My Inner Bogan

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For Funny Friday yesterday I posted a number of jokes about country and western music and about C & W fans.

Byter Tim B, who hails from the home of country, the U S of A, sent me the following email:

Morning Otto, Good post today.  I love country and western music and oddly enough I have all my teeth, but my favorite C&W song is “I’ll Get You, You Bugger You” by Snotty Jones and his Nine Nosepickers. The lady loved C&W music so much she had a picture of Garth Brooks tattooed on the inside of one thigh and Conway on the other side.  Saturday night at the VFW dance, and for those of you who don’t know what the VFW is, it is a bastion of Hillary Clinton’s deplorables who are veterans ,love their country, and C&W music, she was picked up by Otis who was extremely drunk.  As they were making love, she asked Otis if he recognized the faces of the tattoos. Otis said I don’t know who that is on the right or left, but the one in the middle is Willie Nelson. Have a great weekend Otto, think I’ll go get my geetar and learn some of those songs for my next gig. Tim

Thanks, Tim

Here’s a pic of Willie to add visual impact to Tim’s item . . .

I confess that I have an inner bogan that likes some C & W, including, yes, I will admit it . . . Achy Breaky Heart.  

Country music is unique in that apart from being musical, the songs usually contain a story with beginning, middle and end as well as a moral and life lesson.  Think songs such as:

Coward of the County (“Sometimes you gotta fight when you’re a man”)

The Gambler (“You got to know when to hold 'em, Know when to fold 'em . . .”)

Achy Breaky Heart (“You can tell your ma I moved to Arkansas, You can tell your dog to bite my leg, Or tell your brother Cliff whose fist can tell my lip. He never really liked me anyway”)

Jolene (“And you could have your choice of men, But I could never love again Cause he's the only one for me, Jolene”)

The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia (“… his cheating wife had never left town. That's one body that'll never be found. You see little sister doesn't miss when she aims her gun”)

I also confess that my inner bogan prefers the bush poetry of Banjo Patterson and Henry Lawson over inscrutable avant garde works,  I like the narrative poetry of Robert Service and even like Edgar A Guest, despite Dorothy Parker's poetic comment that:

"I'd rather fail my Wassermann test

Than read a poem by Edgar A. Guest."

So today I am posting a poem by Kev Gillett, not up with The Banjo and Lawson but worth reading.  Some more poems of such ilk in the future.

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Some Bush Poetry

-        Kev Gillett

WE pensioned off old Blue, our dog

when old age got him down

We sent him for company

to old Grandma in the town

But while Granny was elated

Blue still craved the great out doors

and he would roam the town exploring

while old granny did the 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 sense 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 dogs 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 old Blues energy soon spent

And the only shade on offer

was the building with the bell

and he dragged his prize towards

with its flies and feral smell

Then the dog and sheep both rested

in the front porch of the church

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 the rotten things on earth

And he roared of fire and brimstone

and redemption for the throng

up the aisle came Satan’s presence

in this godforsaken pong

And they all cried “Hallelujah”

and they fell as one to pray

but by now old Blue was 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

doffed their hats in silence

for the funeral going past

But old Blue lugged his prize on homewards

travelling past the bowling club

till he took a breather under

the veranda of the pub

There old boozing Bill was resting

sleeping off the night before

to wait the Sunday session

when they opened up the door

When the 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 backstreets

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 up 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 the law enforcement sergeant

sipping coffee on his break

And the sergeant sat bolt upright

with a dog between his feet

and his eyes began to water

from the dead decaying meat

Then the sarge leapt up in horror

but in his 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 it’s holster at his waist

There were muffled bangs and yelping

as random shots rang out

and the 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 cappuccino maker

copped a mortal wound and died

hissing steam, it levitated

falling frothing on it’s 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 plastered 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 system

and a siren gave a blare

And the echoes still were ringing

when beneath the dying heap

there emerged old Blue, still dragging

at the remnants of his sheep

It’s head was gone and several legs

but it hadn’t lost it’s 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 Blues sheep in the garden

that was probably just as well

And she looked out from her front fence

at the town in disarray

at the ambulance, police cars

and you guessed it, 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”