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One eye was brown, the other blue,
Australian Shepherd his breed,
a workin' dog with one helluva nip
to the heels a cattle and steed.

Just a little fur ball when I got him
but I well remember the time,
he could out run 'n outsmart the lot,
an' make 'em all turn on a dime.

Those cold prairie nights, sleepin' under the stars,
that dog would warm my old bones.
I'd play my mouth-harp to settle the herd
while he sang in soft muffled tones.

Last winter there came a fierce blizzard,
we were caught in a mighty snowdrift.
Ol' Blue hunkered down, an' just held his ground,
an' saved us both from descendin' a cliff.

They talk about loyal in people,
an' I suppose there are quite a few,
but I trusted my life, even more than a wife
to that mangy ol' dog name of Blue.

His muzzle finally was grayin',
an' his gate turned to limpin' 'n slow,
but no matter the job I was doin',
he'd follow wherever I'd go.

One mornin', I rose from my dreamin',
but Ol' Blue just didn't get up.
I saw in his bed that slumberin' head,
an' thought sure he resembled a pup.

Now, cryin' just ain't in my nature,
nor whinin' 'bout things I can't change,
but I gotta confess, my heart broke at best
an' was sad 'n plenty deranged.

I laid him to rest on the prairie
for the coyotes to sing him a song,
'cause no dog was quite so deservin'
to live on this earth for so long.

Now if there's a Heaven for doggies,
I'm sure that's where Blue is today;
waggin' his tail, an' just proud as hell
of the work that he done without pay.


Poetry by Tamara Hillman

Copyright 2005








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