Homework w/e 29.08.11 Mateship
Posted: Tue Aug 16, 2011 5:59 pm
MATESHIP Maureen Clifford © 08/11
They were Bewitched and Bedazzled….Witchy and Dazza if you must.
A pair of well matched Clydesdales in whom Jack had total trust.
Old Witchy fancied apples and most days she ate a few
but Dazza was a carrot bloke – munched the odd one or two.
They were both old and now retired, Jack had owned them for years.
Ergonomic lawn mowers – Hay burners without peers.
In their day they’d done the hard yards and withstood the test
and held their own at local shows – both lauded as the best
Last night a storm had whistled through and up there on the ridge
a huge Ironbark had fallen right across the trestle bridge
that led to the upper pastures where Jack sometimes had to go
to bring out the sheep and cattle to warmer pastures below.
The road was steep and winding –not a road, hardly a track
and the tractor wouldn’t make it. He’d rely on these two’s backs.
They’d once more put on the traces , heavy collars and hames
and he’d best be sure to throw in extra ropes and snigging chains.
When they left eagles were flying high the sky was grey and cold
a Boggabilla morning with a light frost so I’m told,
and that frost would cause a problem though that fact they couldn’t know.
but a friendship beyond price would stand the test of time I know.
They snigged the log and pulled it slow to the side of the track
and the ground was slick and slippery.. On one side it dropped back
into a rocky gully , deep and dark with granite sides
where the force of water running had eroded small rock slides.
Old Witchy felt the ground beneath her back hoof start to go
and she threw her weight into the trace her uphill struggle slow.
Old Dazza got the message he was nimbler than she
and he took the strain and held her. Witchy trembled….on her knees.
Jack sized the situation up real quick and cut the trace
and let the big log tumble o’er the edge into the race
of water flowing far below – then with a gentle hand
grabbed old Witchys bridle and gave her a calm command.
‘Hold hard Dazza. Hold Hard’ he cried and he knew Dazza would
they’d a perfect understanding of each other as one should.
And though Dazza was breathing hard his muscles took the strain,
till Jack got Witchy to her feet and on the road again.
A simple act of courage by one horse to his old mate
for she could have took him over – but he did not hesitate.
He never gave a thought to that, just did what must be done
and yet there’s those who still believe that animals are dumb.
They were Bewitched and Bedazzled….Witchy and Dazza if you must.
A pair of well matched Clydesdales in whom Jack had total trust.
Old Witchy fancied apples and most days she ate a few
but Dazza was a carrot bloke – munched the odd one or two.
They were both old and now retired, Jack had owned them for years.
Ergonomic lawn mowers – Hay burners without peers.
In their day they’d done the hard yards and withstood the test
and held their own at local shows – both lauded as the best
Last night a storm had whistled through and up there on the ridge
a huge Ironbark had fallen right across the trestle bridge
that led to the upper pastures where Jack sometimes had to go
to bring out the sheep and cattle to warmer pastures below.
The road was steep and winding –not a road, hardly a track
and the tractor wouldn’t make it. He’d rely on these two’s backs.
They’d once more put on the traces , heavy collars and hames
and he’d best be sure to throw in extra ropes and snigging chains.
When they left eagles were flying high the sky was grey and cold
a Boggabilla morning with a light frost so I’m told,
and that frost would cause a problem though that fact they couldn’t know.
but a friendship beyond price would stand the test of time I know.
They snigged the log and pulled it slow to the side of the track
and the ground was slick and slippery.. On one side it dropped back
into a rocky gully , deep and dark with granite sides
where the force of water running had eroded small rock slides.
Old Witchy felt the ground beneath her back hoof start to go
and she threw her weight into the trace her uphill struggle slow.
Old Dazza got the message he was nimbler than she
and he took the strain and held her. Witchy trembled….on her knees.
Jack sized the situation up real quick and cut the trace
and let the big log tumble o’er the edge into the race
of water flowing far below – then with a gentle hand
grabbed old Witchys bridle and gave her a calm command.
‘Hold hard Dazza. Hold Hard’ he cried and he knew Dazza would
they’d a perfect understanding of each other as one should.
And though Dazza was breathing hard his muscles took the strain,
till Jack got Witchy to her feet and on the road again.
A simple act of courage by one horse to his old mate
for she could have took him over – but he did not hesitate.
He never gave a thought to that, just did what must be done
and yet there’s those who still believe that animals are dumb.
