Poor ol' dog was crouching there
pained expression on her face.
Ma was in the kitchen,
with a potion taking place.
This will fix that mongrel up,
mumbling as she stirred the brew.
Epsom salts, Cod liver oil, a Laxet or maybe two.
Well I would not be that poor ol' dog,
not for all the gold round here.
No sooner had she downed the stuff,
the shit it flowed like beer.
The paddocks looked like a Pro Hart canvas,
sprayed brown and running thick.
Then the dog she turned and spotted Ma,
and too the bush she headed quick.
Then Ma let out an evil cackle,
her potion had done the trick..
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