The dog was blue with mean yellow eyes
sorta scrawny and ribby and covered with flies
and every afternoon he’d be down at the pub
and he’d roll over onto his back for a bit of a rub.
Rumour had it he’d been round here for years
so said the locals over a few beers.
apparently he was the pet of a swag
Who used to call into the pub for a bit of a mag.
The swaggies name was Jack McPhee
and no wilder man could there be.
Jack loved a good old pub brawl
and he’d dive in boots and all.
But one day he just never came back
and no one knew what happened to Jack
but the dog kept comin day after day
every afternoon since Jack went away.
The locals had all nicknamed him “Cobber”
only cause they couldn’t read what was writ on his collar.
The first night I saw him I gave him a pat
as he laid there all sprawled out on the mat.
He was pantin and puffin with his tongue lollin out
and I figured it musta been my turn to shout.
Well a Schooner of water he scolled real quick
and after he’d finished he gave his head a bit of a flick,
and he looked up at me through the dust and the flies
and I could see a “Thank you” in those big yellow eyes.
After that night we became real good mates
and I’d chin wag with him about all me pet hates
and he’d look on and with a nod of his head
You’d swear he knew every word that I said.
It really got the better of me where he went every morning
and one day I got up just as it was dawning.
I went to the pub for a bit of a meander
and there was Cobber still asleep on the verandah.
I didn’t have to wait long for him to wake
And he was soon up and about with a scratch and a shake.
He looked around as dogs do with his nose sniffin the air
And I’m sure he was checkin if anyone was there.
He then took off at a slow trot
and already the morning Sun was getting hot.
Well we musta walked an hour or more
and we came to a small town I’d not been to before.
Soon Cobber had disappeared from my view
And I hadn’t quite seen where he went to.
In the Church yard I found him at the base of a tree
Layin on the grave of old Jack McPhee.
The grave was all overgrown with grass
And tears flooded my eyes as I read the epitaph
” Jack McPhee had but one friend
the dog he fought for to the end.
He lived his last moments hard and wild
to save the life of his dog
who he loved like a child”