Saturday, March 3, 2012
New Iditarod Entry
h/t to Way Up North for the idea and Hal Swift for the poetry
Huskies Like These?
by Hal Swift
Things here in Reno was quiet last winter
and there weren't that much we could do.
Till one snowy mornin' we hear dogs barkin',
and makin' a hullabaloo.
My boys and me looked out the north barn door,
and there in the cold mornin' fogs,
was a big old boy on a big old sled,
bein' pulled by ten big dogs.
It just so happened the boss's sister,
Matilda, come walkin' up then.
She's a gal that none of us likes a whole lot,
cause she always picks at us men.
"What's the matter?" she says, with a haughty air.
"Never seen dogs pullin' a sled?
The handsome young musher who's drivin' the thing
is a boyfriend of mine, named Ted."
She says, "It'd take a dozen of you,
to be as smart as one of his fingers."
But none of us says anything, you know?
'Cause we ain't too good with the zingers.
The dogs stop runnin', and start restin' up,
and Ted comes walkin' inside.
Matilda says, "Oh, come on, Honeybun!
You promised your snookums a ride."
I sees a frown on young Ted's face,
and I figger he ain't too happy.
But Matilda's smilin' an' giving 'im a look
that's best described as sappy.
Ted looks at us, then he looks at her,
and I can see the boy's plumb wore out.
"Oh come on, Sweetie!" Matilda begs,
and puckers her lips in a pout.
Ted wraps Matilda in a bearskin rug,
then ties her onto the sled.
He climbs on the back, and Matilda winks.
"Let's make this a long ride," she said.
Ted blushes and "mushes," and the dogs take off,
then Ted seems to trip and to fall.
But he lands on 'is feet, and it soon turns out
the boy wasn't injured at all.
Some of us boys see the look on 'is face
as he watches Matilda depart.
From the way he's grinnin', we can tell at a glance,
it ain't really breakin' his heart.
We crowd all around him and somebody says,
"It's all right, we know how ya feel.
That gal could cause a true saint to go bad,
her leavin's a heckuva deal."
Ted says, "I thank you, I just got fed up
with the way that she always is pickin'.
When she said I had to come out to the ranch,
I'd sooner have taken a lickin'."
"How far will them dogs of yours run," I asked,
"before they come bringin' her home?"
Ted sighs and grins, "With Huskies like these?
They'll run till they get t'Nome."
From my pal, Hal Swift, Nevada Poet