One bright summer's day, when the sun made one blink,
Fred-Belch came to visit his good mate, Fat-Freddy,
who, with his long tongue, which is sticky and pink,
was capturing flies. (Which I think is icky).

Fred-Belch, when he barks, excited and loudly
(which happens quite often when herding the sheep)
has a habit of burping (he does it so proudly)
that gained him the nickname he’d rather not keep.

A good looking canine - by birth a pure collie -
of good parentage, or so we are told.
Never a fool, and never a folly,
except for one year, in days now of old -

the time the two Krazy west grey Kangaroos
got drunk – not a story for youth.
But may I just say, what was said on the news
was only the half of what was the truth.

When the frog called Fat Freddy first came to the pond
Fred-Belch and Dom-Jesse and old Dilly-Daisy
were three dogs that lived at the farmhouse beyond.
But now there’s just two, ‘ços one was plain crazy.

Dom-Jesse was brought to the farm as a pup,
for Tommy's third birthday last year in the spring.
He had a bit of a rough growing up
beneath Tiny-Tommy's rough ministering.

Dom-Jesse’s allowed in the spacious old farm house,
and really has only a puppy’s small snout,
so can be excused for not smelling the fieldmouse
that maybe one day I will tell you about.

Dilly-Daisy's been sent to the city, where thence
she now lives with Grandmother Hogg.
She'd taught the pet lambs to jump the high fence.
Not something expected from a clever farm dog.

Fred-Belch was ecstatic to see Daisy go.
She'd made his sheep-guarding job hard,
and he'd had to, too oftentimes, race to and fro,
to ensure that they all stayed safe in their yard.

Just yesterday morning, or was it last Tuesday? -
I cannot remember when quite -
with the head ram in charge of the top paddock mob,
Fred-Belch had a noisy and terrible fight.

Fat-Fred and Old-Jeeves, too struck dumb, overcome
by the racket to go to the meadow,
leaped high up and down on one spot by their gum,
attempting to see what was causing the row.

It seems that the hub of the vexation was
last year's orphaned lamb, Primrose-Helen,
who was causing dissention and discord because
she’d turned into quite the young felon.

In the way Dilly-Daisy had taught her last May,
she insisted on hurdling the fence.
The rest of the ewes, in their dumb-sheep flock way,
all followed her over, and hence -

cross words were directed at dog by the ram -
insisting that Fred had neglected
his duty of care as the head honcho man.
Fred-Belch felt very dejected.

It's going to take Fred a rather long time
to repair what she’s done, Dilly-Daisy.
For although those sheep often seem to be dumb,
most all have a really long memory.

Some people have asked me about Dilly-Daisy,
and if she has finally settled.
Well, the last time I heard, she'd stopped trying to flee,
after a start that had poor grandma nettled.

It’s deep in the heart of a Blue Heeler dog
where wanderlust usually is found,
and soon she was testing the heart of Nan Hogg,
this pretty pure-blooded-from-Down-Under hound.

She soon was renowned throughout all the town,
with the dog-catcher constantly picking her up.
He’d wait by the gate ‘til she jumped the wood fence,
and gleefully lock her right up in his truck.

In the end Granny heightened the fence by five feet,
with barb-wire atop (it looks awful)
and now the front yard can’t be seen from the street,
but it keeps Dilly-Daisy most lawful.

And she brings Daisy down to the farm every Christmas,
when she takes off on really long tours.
While the family unite at the estate en-mass,
she pounds o’er the country on all her four paws.

For town life has wakened her bravery and zest.
She’s earned admiration so deep.
She’s even been seen in The Scary Wilderness.
(But Fred-Belch, he still keeps her away from the sheep).

Dilly Daisy’s tough history, I've had to relate,
and it seems I've now run out of time
to narrate why the Freds are such very great mates.
It’ll keep for another day’s rhyme.