West of Dubbo the west begins <br />The land of leisure and hope and trust, <br />Where the black man stalks with his dogs and gins <br />And Nature visits the settlers' sins <br />With the Bogan shower, that is mostly dust. <br />When the roley-poley's roots dry out <br />With the fierce hot winds and the want of rain, <br />They come uprooted and bound about <br />And dance in a wild fantastic rout <br />Like flying haystacks across the plain. <br /> <br />And the horses shudder and snort and shift <br />As the bounding mass of weeds goes past, <br />But the emus never their heads uplift <br />As they look for roots in the sandy drift, <br />For the emus know it from first to last. <br /> <br />Now, the boss's dog that had come from town <br />Was strange to the wild and woolly west, <br />And he thought he would earn him some great renown <br />When he saw, on the wastes of the open down, <br />An emu standing beside her nest. <br /> <br />And he said to himself as he stalked his prey <br />To start on his first great emu hunt, <br />"I must show some speed when she runs away, <br />For emus kick very hard, they say; <br />But I can't be kicked if I keep in front." <br /> <br />The emu chickens made haste to flee <br />As he barked and he snarled and he darted around, <br />But the emu looked at him scornfully <br />And put an end to his warlike glee <br />With a kick that lifted him off the ground. <br /> <br />And when, with an injured rib or two, <br />He made for home with a chastened mind, <br />An old dog told him, "I thought you knew <br />An emu kicks like a kangaroo, <br />And you can't get hurt -- if you keep behind."<br /><br />Andrew Barton Paterson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-emu-hunt/
