Iím The Bossís Dog
I know Iím not much to look at & the boss said Iím mongrel bred
And the words he often yells at me really never should be said,
But I get the job done just the same and most times I am forgiven
But I know that in my heart of hearts, Iíll never get to doggie heaven
My life story started years ago when I was just a half-grown pup,
When the bloke that owned me then, said my numberís nearly up,
I had great fun when he was away and cleaned up all his fowls,
Iím sure that you can guess the rest if youíd listened to my howls.
But as luck would have it on that day, a kind neighbour did arrive
When he heard that sorry tale, he said for solution we should strive,
My owner said you can take the brute, I donít give a ruddy toss
And that is how I came to be, owned by my present boss.
He put me in his battered Ute & took me home to his loving wife
I knew by the way she glared at me that he was going to be in strife,
Why heís only nine months old, he said, her tart criticism to allay
If heís no good with the sheep, heíll guard the place when weíre away.
Now all the new rules and regulations I was very quick to learn
And although the boss was always kind he was also very stern,
When weíd go around the sheep he always took me in the cab
Till through my indiscretions, the words he used were worse than scab.
I was mustering in the hills when I came upon a stinking sheep,
It had been dead for several days & was now a maggot ridden heap,
I just could not resist a lovely roll and as any good dog knows,
I really made the most of it while watched on by several crows.
In the distance I heard the boss giving forth his piercing whistles
Straight away I knew itĎs time to clear the sheep out of the thistles,
I took them down to the drafting yards at quite a steady pace
I knew that if I performed quite well, it would be my saving grace.
When finally the job was done, and it was time to head for home
Boss gathered up his tools of trade along with the cutters & the comb.
Come on boy he called to me as he opened up the Uteís old door,
Youíve done a good job today old pal, you certainly know the score.
Then when I hopped onto the seat the boss quickly changed his tune,
Although I really liked my smell Iím afraid the boss was not immune,
Why you stinking brute the boss gasped out, get out of here quick
You can ride home in the back and he sure gave me the flick.
Iíve got used to riding in the back, especially when we go to town,
I gaze down at all the other mutts as they come strutting round,
They all walk around on stiffened legs with the attitude of a thug
But I feel quite superior as I snarl and feel quite smug.
The boss often talks to different mates as heís sitting in his Ute
While I run around in the back of it where Iím bidden to be mute,
I donít mind his mates at all and donít wish them any harm,
But if someone touches the bosses Ute Iíll chew off his blimey arm.
It was on one cold and wintry day, the boss must have been feeling kind,
He said hop in the front with him where I felt the warmth make me unwind,
Iíd been eating rabbit guts for days & I didnít leave the boss in suspense,
ĎGet out your stinking brute,í he cried, Ďwith your evil smelling flatulence.í
Battles many I have fought and I nearly always win the fight,
The boss yells and screams and carries on but I often hear him skite,
That heís never seen me beaten yet no matter my opponentís condition,
For I wait my chance to grab a foot then the howl of quick submission.
The years have slowly slipped away and Iíve lost the spring of youth
And I do my best refraining now from doing anything uncouth,
The bossís wife has finally realized that Iíve earned my place at last,
For she knows I am the bosses dog for the die has long been cast.