Every year or there-abouts, the show day came around
by the golf course and the trotting-track was our local town showground.
Now this was not a big town; the population...small.
But the folks knew how to party. (eg The St Pats Ball!!)
Being a rural district the showday featured cattle,
poultry, food stalls, arts and crafts, and sheeps dogs doing battle.
New farm machines were on display with sales reps in dozens.
And many families taking time to chat with friends and cousins.
A new event to our small town; the dog high jump, by jeepers!
Attracted the inaugural mob of hopeful canine leapers.
The pack was all the usual mix of various working dog.
For years they'd each been rounding sheep, but now they'd face the log
planks that had been set up, quite like a stockyard fence,
with wooden palings in-between. Out came the judging gents.
To start it off they set the height to somewhere near four feet.
The crowd began to settle in. New sport always a treat.
The dogs would take a run-up, leap and clamber up and over.
Time had come to find the champ: Which Fido, Spot, or Rover?
Who'd be the top dog on the day? Who'd end the show as winner?
Which dog would go home with a years supply of 'Pal' for dinner?
Who'd be the leader of the pack? Who'd pocket the prize pay?
The drama of a new event convinved a few to stay,
and watch the dogs they knew so well, from sheep work trials each year.
It gave the blokes a chance to yarn, and maybe sink a beer..
Most cockies thrive on challenge, and they often love a bet.
Would it be a working dog, or possibly a pet?
Which dogs were the favourites, and which ones had real potential?
Which might finally triumph to be champion eventual?
The theories passing round the crowd were hardly confidential,
but crowd discussion of this type was pretty much essential.
So, from a feild of fourteen dogs, which seemed like more than plenty,
we started with a modest crowd of something close to twenty.
The first round was a good one from each contesting dog.
And so the stewards added on the next awaiting log.
The height was getting fairly close to somewhere round five feet,
as each dog did his doggone best at trying to compete.
The working dogs were used to jumping on or off a ute.
The house-dogs struggled with the height, but none-the-less looked cute.
But then there came a couple of late entrants to the sport.
The first one, a brown terrier; quite fit but slightly short.
The other brought the crowd to life: A monster of a beast!
He must have stood two metres long; a metre high, at least!!
Both dogs had just been finishing the final sheep dog trials;
The winner and the runner-up: Both owners sporting smiles.
They joined the nine remaining dogs with deft athletic ease,
and made the height to qualify. (So far it seemed a breeze).
Another log was hoisted up, and carefully fastened tight.
The last remaining dogs would need to clear a six-foot height.
This culled a few more from the pack. We now were down to six.
When suddenly the great big dog began to start his tricks, ...
