A SHEEP FAIR

Hauraki Plains Gazette, Volume 51, Issue 3151, 3 August 1942, Page 3

A SHEEP FAIR

MUSTERED HILL & VALLEY 100 DAYS’ MANOEUVRE POEM BY MR JAMES H. ELLIOTT Time was not so very long ago when the Ohaupo sheep fair was the biggest sale of the kind in the province. It has since been deposed by the Morrinsville sales. Probably no person living has a longer comprehensive association with the (firstmentioned sales than Mr J- H. Elliott, a well-known stock expert, and thus his poem on them, published in his latest book, “Idylls Of An Idler,” is full of interest. Many well-known names are mentioned. We reproduce the poem by courtesy of Mr Elliott.

They have mustered hill and valley Half a hundred miles around, And dogs and men for travelling prepare, With their fifty thousand tally Of the bleating mass, all bound For Ohaupo and the great McNicol fair. To the centre spot they’re thronging, Miles of white on ev’ry road Each mob, its tireless leader at the head’; In his brain a single notion To maintain the collie code And check the strong to match the weaker tread. By the hundred, dogs manoeuvre At the whistle of command, Alert always to check an errant move, And with pride the stockman watches As his canine four-in-hand Successfully their tutored, merits

prove. In the yards they’re now assembled And the drafting races pour The myriads through, expertly classified, And many a plaintive bleating Spells the woe of nevermore, As ewe and lamb their partnership

divide. Men sweat ’neath toil of penning And the oaths of Willie Mac, Uncouth in style, but spite of all—a man, And Vercoe, too, though granted More at home upon a hack When the cattle underneath his judgment ran. But the job at last has ended, Into shade the dogs have run And heed no more the pallid, panting mass That, denied it, bear in patience The blister of the sun And dream their dreams of shelter, •streams and grass. In their honour crowds have gathered,

And discriminating eyes Apportion out disparamement or

praise, While rival hopes respecting The market’s fall or rise Receive their cue, wherever interest lays. But the starting gong has sounded, McCullagh mounts the rail And sweeps the crowd with challenge of command; In his eye the eagle’s daring, In his tongue the cruel flail, That few provoked in second reprimand.

A man might fool his conscience, But never fool “old Mac,” Who’d steal his thought before it right arose, And did he chance to wander Adown the “short cut” track He’d find the dragon steaming at the

nose. One way there was —one only— And. by it man must tread Or seek some other market. By his God, And that meant by his honour, He swore no scheming head Should find throuhg him an avenue

to fraud. A host of tongues now blether In rigmarole and rhyme, And reputations on -such froth sub-

sist, But for earnest honest merit McCullagh in his prime Towered o’er the lot—a peerless specialist. I see him now before me, Confront the opening pen, All eyes and ears attention—as he

draws Magnetic like, per medium Of the signs and winks of men The offerings to serve his clients’

cause. Along the line he rattles, With Wyllie at his heel Hard pressed at times to get the re-

cord down, And. though damning oft, the hurry, It helped himself a deal To earn in after years his own re-

nown. But now the end approaches, And sheep begin to wend Along their altered course,- and l

stockmen go On theirs, to that assembly Where friend may cherish friend And foe extract the stuffing out of foe.

The party wears a radiance, The atmosphere—a blush, But prudence * knocks —then out

through smoke and steam Rolls the'truculent McCullagh With his “double header” flush And bids the ostler harness up his

team. Two thoroughbreds—a picture That admiring crowds surround, Skin full of oats and keen the fact to show;

Scarce time has he to clamber To his seat before they bound; And homeward heading—Hell for leather —go.