Up On the Verandah

UP ON THE VERANDA Up on back veranda Near the old wooden steps, Looking out to milking shed Old Ma Stewart sat alone in her chair, Rocking ever so gently, Not a sound originated, Her gaze fixated To the ground in front. Old Ma Stewart Was one not to mess about, When it came to Getting things done On her own accord, And this was the case, And the case in being, Was what underneath And beneath her feet? She had seen it go there and under Three mornings ago, Then Old Ma Stewart in the ways Of ingenuous country folk, Had placed a saucer of milk Next to wooden veranda steps, And each morn as the brute Came out to drink, And to lick its lips, Not ever noticing saucer A little further out each day, And on the fourth morn; Old Ma Stewart gently Rocked back and forth, Her saucer of milk in place, Then as the brute Came out and about Looking forward for another feed, And at the moment of licking lips Olde Ma Stewart SPRANG! And she wasn’t going to miss Lopping off with shovel This mongrel’s head. And the head Of this black six-foot monster, Now in victory Hanging on the fence; Next to shearing shed. Francis Cooper – Mac © 2018