I am not a great poet and I don't conform to modern styles - I just like doing it.

I hope you like the works below.

Shearers bring in all their gear,

Handpieces, cutters, combs appear,

And then there's lunch and smako too,

This is all duly checked by Blue.

Charlie's runnin pretty late,

He had a mix up with the date,

He quickly puts his Esky down,

Forgot the lid the stupid clown.

Wool shed smells of lanoline,

Sheep are emptied out and clean,

Shearers waiting on the clock,

Pieces oiled, bring on the flock.

Bluey's got the woolies penned,

Classer's smokin while he bends,

To get his texta off the board,

To mark the bins, he knows this hoard.

These are Saxons pure and white,

Boss's pleased that they just might,

Make big money, top the sale,

I could retire on just one bale.

.

The boss calls Blue to fill the race,

He doesn't come he's off his pace.

But soon he hops up on the board,

He's come from where the gear is stored

Blue's the smartest dog we've, got

He's grinnin and I wonder what

That smarty pants has done or found

That's why I have a look around

That dog has gone and et the lunch,

Of Charlie, and I've got a hunch,

That Bluey's gone and pissed on,

The Esky that he sits on.

Now it's smoko, Charlie's spewin,

“I'll kill that fuckin mongrel Blue n,

Piss on him”, says shearer Charlie,

Give me that grinder spanner Harley.

And off he goes, he's fairly fumin,

“That bloody Blue he thinks he's human”,

But Bluey's off and now he's crawled,

Under the slats against the wall.

.

Charlie's callin Blue to come,

Hidin the spanner behind his bum,

But Blue knows stayin put's the go,

While Charlie's ragin to and fro.

The team is laughin loud and long,

They yell out, “Charlie gets the gong,

For bein dumber than the dog,

But maybe smarter than a log”

Their sides are hurtin from the laughter,

Their tears are rollin cause Charlies dafter,

Than the sheep they're shearin,

And then they're hearin.

Charlie yellin, “come out you cur,

I'll separate ya flesh from fur,

And then I'll rip ya bloody tail off,

See how that affects ya woof”.

His temper's runnin pretty hot,

He kicks the shed and hurts his foot,

The spanner flies towards the dog,

But buries in the sheep shit bog.

Smoko's over, gear is whirrin,

Charlie knows that they'll be stirrin,

He comes in shamefaced, looks at Harley,

“I'd appreciate that spanner Charlie.”