Tongue in Cheek

[Glen Hughes]

52 - Tongue in Cheek

It’s often said In humour,
and voiced with tongue in cheek,
the silly one is working them,
it’s not the bloody sheep.
Management of livestock,
a never ending task,
thirty thousand sheep in hand,
and all run off our arse.

Sheepy men they called us,
the ringers up the track,
all they had were cattle,
to brand, and truck their fats.
Life for them was easy,
water, hot as hell,
up each day at daylight
to endure a long days spell.

Come over for a shearing boys
and give our job a crack,
no time for sitting drinking tea,
you’ve got your lunch to pack.
You blokes wouldn’t last a week
you’d never make it back,
you’d think your throats were cut by lunch,
you’d quickly get the sack.

Out the door in the dark,
bike not horse to ride,
there’s 40 miles to travel,
it’s bloody cold outside.
Dog is perched up on the tank,
ears pricked, keen to work,
waiting for his call to jump,
his job he doesn’t shirk.

Calendar to be managed,
muster twice a year,
driving mobs for miles,
and sheep to crutch and shear.
Yard, draft, shed and pen,
tag, brand and dip,
Woolies in, shornys’ out,
so many miles to trip.

Water levels, bones in floats,
and pipelines checked for leaks.
troughs to clean so many,
seven days a week.
Windmills to be serviced,
pumps to fill and start,
dingoes to be kept at bay,
everyone took a part.

Social interaction,
every now and then,
sheepy men and ringers,
together once again.
Ringers chewing on a chop,
we just wanted steak,
yarns to tell, drinking rum,
arms to twist and shake.

It’s often said In humour,
and voiced with tongue in cheek,
the silly one is working them,
it’s not the bloody sheep.
Management of livestock,
a never ending task,
thirty thousand sheep in hand,
and all run off our arse.

Glen Hughes ©
21/5/22