Poem to set us right for the year
Posted: Thu 21 Feb 2013 9:10 pmWell here we are all about to start a new year of trialing. Some of us have been around awhile, others for many decades, and some are just starting out. I put together this poem in a lighthearted attempt to spur us all on, and also to highlight what a great sport we have. I hope you enjoy and take it for what it is.
We live in beautiful Oz,
a land of many extremes.
We trial and hunt our Gundogs,
With winning as our dream.
The thrill of competition,
To see our dogs retrieve.
Brings joy and satisfaction,
In our quest to achieve.
Good friends, great dogs and clean fresh air,
How lucky can we be.
To have all that and fun as well,
I'm sure you will agree.
Friends we are but still we have,
Friendly rivalry.
To beat the other states,
And be top of the tree.
The Vic's might be quite cocky,
Since winning interstate.
But can't rest on their laurels,
For that may seal their fate.
In New South Wales they trial their dogs,
On mountains close to snow.
It's cold, it's bleak and far from home,
They're tough, of this we know.
And tucked away in A.C.T.
a small hardworking team,
Strive to hold some local trials,
And keep the newbies keen.
The sunny north has its brigade,
Who trial in rain and heat.
Along with prickles, lillies and ticks,
Surviving is a feat.
Then West we go to another land,
Where ladies form a formidable band,
Of handlers with dogs to challenge the lead,
A few men too, so pay them heed.
Now in the South there are a few,
Real keen handlers, givem their due,
They cope with imports from all around,
True Blue sports, we have found.
And sailing way across the Strait
The Tassies play with their best mates.
With views so great, none can compare,
When mainies go they can but stare.
All in all, we are a weird bunch,
We trial all day, not breaking for lunch.
We love our dogs, I do not jest,
Each of us knows, We have the best !
We live in beautiful Oz,
a land of many extremes.
We trial and hunt our Gundogs,
With winning as our dream.
The thrill of competition,
To see our dogs retrieve.
Brings joy and satisfaction,
In our quest to achieve.
Good friends, great dogs and clean fresh air,
How lucky can we be.
To have all that and fun as well,
I'm sure you will agree.
Friends we are but still we have,
Friendly rivalry.
To beat the other states,
And be top of the tree.
The Vic's might be quite cocky,
Since winning interstate.
But can't rest on their laurels,
For that may seal their fate.
In New South Wales they trial their dogs,
On mountains close to snow.
It's cold, it's bleak and far from home,
They're tough, of this we know.
And tucked away in A.C.T.
a small hardworking team,
Strive to hold some local trials,
And keep the newbies keen.
The sunny north has its brigade,
Who trial in rain and heat.
Along with prickles, lillies and ticks,
Surviving is a feat.
Then West we go to another land,
Where ladies form a formidable band,
Of handlers with dogs to challenge the lead,
A few men too, so pay them heed.
Now in the South there are a few,
Real keen handlers, givem their due,
They cope with imports from all around,
True Blue sports, we have found.
And sailing way across the Strait
The Tassies play with their best mates.
With views so great, none can compare,
When mainies go they can but stare.
All in all, we are a weird bunch,
We trial all day, not breaking for lunch.
We love our dogs, I do not jest,
Each of us knows, We have the best !