The Old Dog

At a point where the old road meets the hill and runs down the other side There's an old tin shed that's standing, still and a grave where the old dog died He surely had seen better days when our paths chanced to cross As I lit up a fire and laid out my swag he got up and wandered across I could see from the look in the old dog's eye that his race was almost run but he sat by my side and offered his paw So I gave him a pat and a bun I cooked up some meat and he chewed on a bone then he rested his head on my swag We sat and we watched as the stars all came out and his tail did a slow steady wag We fell fast asleep and I woke with the sun to find the old dog passed away So I gathered him up and I buried him deep and sadly I went on my way It was later that morning I stopped at a farm to ask about work round about and I happened to see a new litter of pups one turned and came waddling out He sat on the ground and he offered his paw and I saw a strange glint in his eye Had the old dog returned? Was he telling me now that I shouldn't be sad that he'd died? Well I picked him right up and his warm puppy tongue quickly licked off the tear from my cheek I couldn't think straight, I was stunned and choked up and found my knees going all weak So I bought him right there and I gathered him up He settled right down in my swag As I walked down the road I could feel the odd thump as his tail did a slow steady wag. From my PDF book "Bush Ballads and Bulldust"