The Aussie Mutts Revenge by Liam Cotterill

‘Twas the dog from Ironbark that escaped the Sydney pound,
He dug the plants up in the park and threw them all around.
He piddled here and piddled there until he let one drop,
And then at last in sheer despair he sought a butcher shop.
‘Ere I’ll sit on his doorstep and wait for some tasty gruel,
And if I do not get none, I’ll bite of his crown jewels.

The butcher man was short and fat as butchers mostly are,
He wore an apron stained with blood and smoked a huge cigar.
He was a chauvinist of note yet keen at drinking tea,
Though there was no one in old Sydney town who could drink a beer like he.
And when he saw our friend arrive he whispered “Here’s a lark,
Just watch me catch him all alive this dog from Ironbark.

There was some trophy heads that hung alone the butcher’s wall,
Their eyes were dull, their heads were flat, they had no brains at all.
To them the butcher passed a wink his dexterous eyelid shut,
“I’ll make this blooming mongrel think his blooming tongue is cut.”
And while he lured the dog inside he made a rude remark,
“S’pose the gruel is pretty good up home in Ironbark.”

A grunt was all reply he got, he fed the dog some gin,
Then made the water boiling hot and dipped the sausage in.
He raised his hand, his brow grew black, he paused a while to gloat,
Then shoved the chilli sausage down the helpless mongrel’s throat.
Upon the newly softened tongue it made a livid mark,
No doubt it fairly took him in- the dog from Ironbark.

He fetched a wild up country yelp that might wake the dead to hear,
His tongue he thought had fallen out in the butcher’s jeer.
He stumbled gamely to his feet and faced his murderous foe,
‘His done for me, the rat, I’m beat, one bite before I go.
I only wish I had my pack you blessed murdering shark,
I’ll make him remember all his life the dog from Ironbark.’

He leapt across the room and landed at the butcher’s feet,
Then he bit his jewels clean off and threw them on the street.
He set to work with paw and tail and made the place a wreck,
He grabbed the nearest casserole and threw it on the deck.
And all the while his tongue he bit to save his vital spark,
And ‘Murder, bloody murder’ thought the dog from Iron bark.

A dog pound man who heard the din came in to see the show,
He tried to run the old dog in but he refused to go.
And when at last the butcher spoke and said “’Twas all in fun,
‘twas just a little harmless joke a trifle overdone.”
‘A joke’ He thought ‘by George that’s fine, a lively sort of lark,
I’d like to meet that murdering swine some night in Ironbark.

And now while round the sleeping floor the listening pack dogs gape,
As he tells the story o’er and o’er and brags of his escape.
“Them butcher men, and chauvinists, by George I’ve had enough,
One tried to cut me blooming throat but thank the pack its tough.”
And whether he’s believed or no there’s one thing to remark,
That dogs eat steak and that’s the go up home in Ironbark.

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