SHEEPDOGS - PEG KNIGHT
High! In the early morning sun Following the heels of the shepherd's hack, Climbing the ever winding hill...are the eager working pack Each one keen to have his run....eyes are bright and full of fun The day draws on.....the gullies are steep, The sheep are sluggish and want to sleep. This is when the toil begins, tongues are lolling, feet are sore The master whistles, the huntaways roar One on the left wing....along the face, While the swift footed header is still full of grace. Skipping lightly across the scree Angling in, beneath the tall tree. Across the sharp rock, and far out of sight, Turning the flock, the direction is right. Did ever a heart beat so strong in a breast? Run after run, not thinking of rest. Striving to please, each dog gives its best. In such a frail body, inner strength he does keep, Dedication, and work, in minding the sheep; Or fighting a bull, when making his stand. He'll not lack courage, and still take command. He'll give his life's blood, though no word he can speak. A sheepdog's worth must be noted today For what will tomorrow-land bring? Yesterday's men are unable to say, Today there's a few who still know The whispering win of tomorrow A tribute will surely bestow. |
A WORKING DOG (UNKNOWN)
I’ve seen the Rocky Mountains And the Gulf of Mexico The California Surfers And palm trees by the row I’ve read the works of Shakespeare And seen Picasso’s paint The sounds of concert pianists And heard the bagpipes quaint And all of these have thrilled me But not one could compare With watching herding dogs a-working A single or a pair There’s magic in each movement That Mozart never had And beauty in each turn That makes my heart feel glad There’s science in each answer Of every whistled tone That Newton never thought of Nor ever was he shown There’s feeling in the handling That only poet know Or men that work with stockdogs And feel the teamwork grow Wherever life may take you In sunshine or in fog You’ll never quite forget it When once you’ve worked a dog |