Horse Fever

Cec's comments

 

This poem was recently re-played on our Regional ABC and struck a cord with many of our residents.

 

Horse Fever

 

Why would an individual, endowed with normal sense,

Buy a block of well-grassed land, and then put up a fence

Build a kind of lean-to shed, with swinging doors of course,

And with masochistic tendencies, go and buy a horse?

 

Buy a horse - become a bankrupt! That's a well-known phrase.

Yet horsey folk throughout the world, all go through this phase.

Bank managers, accountants, will warn of fiscal folly,

But there are those who feel, that to own a horse, is jolly.

 

First, they have to get advice.  What kind of horse to buy?

Black or white, or brown or grey, one about this high,

Stallion, mare, or gelding, spirited or docile.

One to match their colour scheme. One to match their profile.

 

And when the horse is purchased, with overdraft arranged,

That's when the new horse owners find their lives have changed.

A pony club's essential so the kids can learn to ride,

You'll need to buy a horse float, to put the horse inside.

 

You'll find your car's not powerful enough to tow the float,

A four-wheel drive should do the trick.  You'll have to sell the boat.

Reins, and bridles, saddles, rugs, and of course, the feed,

Blacksmith coming once a month to tend the horses needs,

The vet rejoices silently, one born every minute,

And you rejoice as well.  The horsey mob.  You're in it.

 

The pony club instructor says: "Your kids are doing well,

But the pony's quite inadequate. "Any you think: "Bloody hell.

That means we need another horse to meet the kids' potential,

The instructor says: "Another horse is definitely essential."

 

We can't get rid of Trigger. He's part of the family,

We'd all be broken hearted. Anyone would be.

We'll need a bigger horse float now.  Perhaps a bigger car,

And of course, a bigger overdraft.  The whole thing's quite bizarre.

 

Two horses, stables, extra land, your goal is well in sight,

And then the kids are in their teens'. Hormones running riot.

No interest in gymkhanas, and the weekly horsey treks,

What occupies their minds is sex, more sex, and sex.

 

And you're stuck with the horses, the feeding, the expenses,

Isn't it about time that you came to your senses?

Sell the horses, horse float, the car, the extra land,

Pay off that old overdraft.  The kids will understand.

Forget the pony clubs and such. They'll only drive you crackers.

Invest your money wisely, and go in for Alpacas.

Blue - the shearer (copyright col wilson)

 

 

The Crossed Eyed Bull

Cec's comments - I first heard "The Cross-eyed Bull" at the Illawarra Folk Festival about 15 years ago performed by Jim Haynes, who was then a member of "Bandy Bill & Co." I always thouht this was a Jim Haynes poem as no recognition was given to "Blue" at this preformanace & it wasn't till later at a poets breakfast I first met Blue & heard him recite the same poem & I discovered he was the author.  Since forming the Blue the Shearer Fan Club we have discovered a number of people use his work, inferring it is their own.  As club members we make a point of correcting this practice when ever & where ever we can.  This is one of Blues very early poems & is now considered one of the classics.

 

The Cross-Eyed Bull

 

Did I ever tell blocks about the cross eyed bull I brought?

I couldn't put it in the shows, at least, that's what I thought.

And then I meet this block. He says 'I'd like to take a look.

Those eyes are bad. Ring up the vet.  His number's in the book.'

 

Although I don't have to much time, I ring him up that day.

I say: "Me bull's got cross-eyes.  Can you get out straight away?"

And out he comes.  He looks. He thinks.

He takes this tube of glass, walks around to the bull's backside,

And puts it up - that hole just under the tail.

 

Then he draws a mighty breath.  He blows. He puffs. He sucks.

The eyes rotate. They straighten up. The vet says "Fifty bucks."

"Fifty bloody bucks," I think, 'Now, there's a tidy sum,

Just for half-a-minute's work,

Blowing up some piece of glass tubing.'

 

Still and all, I pay the vet, he'd straightened up the eyes.

I take me bull to Sydney Show, and win a major prize.

I cart him round the bush a bit, we're doing well, and then -

I've got to take him home, because his eyes are crossed again.

 

This time no vet. I know the drill. I'll save meself some dough.

I  get me tube, and shove it in, and I begin to blow.

I blow and puff, and puff and blow, and still the eyes stay crossed.

I'm forced to ring the bloody vet, and mourn the dough I've lost.

 

And out he comes. A very knowing smile upon his face.

He knows I've tried to fix me bull - I've left the tube in place.

He grasps the tube. Reverse it. Gives one tremendous puff.

I see the eyes rotate again, and straighten, sure enough.

 

I pay the vet, and say to him. 'Look, just before you go,

Don't tell me the secet's knowing in whick end to blow.

'No mate.' He says. 'You can blow from North East West or South.

But you didn't think I'd use the end, that you've had in YOUR mouth.' 

BLUE - the shearer (copyright col wilson)