ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

DUCHESS AND DOLLY



Hey up Duchess. Hey up Dolly. Come on girls we’ve got to go.
We’ve got urgent work a waiting. Fences down from the big blow.
Today we’re snigging the top paddock, trees have fallen with the hail.
Stand whilst we put on the blinkers, reins and harness, martingale.

On your broad backs we’re relying, tractors will not work up there.
We can’t do this job without the strength you always willingly share.
For the hill is steep and shaly, twisting tracks narrow as hell.
Slow and steady you must pull girls. Do the work you do so well.

Eighteen hundred pound of muscle. Two matched bays with feathers white.
Sweet of nature, and sure footed, working them is sheer delight.
In the traces they pull smoothly, evenly matched - a perfect pair.
Whiskery muzzles questing softly for the apples that we share.

Feet as big as dinner plates, with feathers white as creamy milk.
Huge hooves as black as polished steel, and mouths as soft as purest silk.
Backs as broad as heavens acres, six foot high at shoulder they stand.
Quiet and docile as a baby. Pure magnificence, and grand.


With the horse our nation prospered, beasts of burden such as these,
carried loads, provided transport, theirs was not a life of ease.
Often mistreated and abused, quite unlike our own spoiled pair
of Clydesdales who are dearly loved for the companionship we share.

So another day is starting, as we head up to the tops.
Where the sky is blue and pristine, and the bird song never stops.
Up to where the Cypress towers, reaching upward - graceful tree.
Working with these girls is pleasure. Duchess, Dolly and lucky me.

Maureen Clifford ©

Lovely Maureen, simply lovely. I especially like the line

Whiskery muzzles questing softly for the apples that we share

Heather

G'day,


Delightful, Maureen.

Great imagery.

I like the last verse, shades of ABP.

So another day is starting, as we head up to the tops.
Where the sky is blue and pristine, and the bird song never stops.
Up to where the Cypress towers, reaching upward - graceful tree.
Working with these girls is pleasure. Duchess, Dolly and lucky me.

John

..Soon as I read the title Maureen, I knew this was about draught horses!... isn't it amazing how the names of the big horses just seem to talk to you about who they are? I do remember my mothers father had a horse for his little market garden, I never saw Dad work horses but I do remember Grandad with his horse....and I am pretty sure she was "Dolly" too!

Lovely Maureen. It's lucky those clydes and drafthorses have such wonderul gentle natures, cos they could just smush us with the flick of a hoof, take our whole face off with a single bite, or slap us silly with those thick tails. They're so calm and patient yet willing to work so hard. Amazing animals.

And yes, Ross is right. I too knew by the names Duchess and Dolly that the poem would be about working horses. Kinda like cows are always Daisy or Bessie, dogs are Butch or Lassie, and pigs are Steve ... well the one we know is! I've heard of people calling their pigs Bacon and Lunch though.

Great poem Maureen.

I think that's a good poem Maureen, plenty of things happening and concrete images.
I'm afraid I still think horses are just big dumb grazing animals, not half as smart as my old dog.