No 6 - Poets

There are plenty of sheep and shepherding poems, but this one is a Christmas special written by

Alan Wells.

THE DOG IN A MANGER

The Tollesbury Dog’s Story

I’ve just come back from Bethlehem,

From Bethlehem from Bethlehem,

I’ve just come back from Bethlehem

Upon a summer’s day.

But it’s June! Wasn’t Bethlehem winter, yer know, snow and all that?

Well, it’s taken me six months to get back. Pilgrims walk slowly.

And there I learned the strangest things a dog has ever known;

To say the story’s staggering is hardly overblown.

It seems that all this ‘Christmas stuff’, the card, the Christmas tree

Is down to just a simple dog, a dog like you and me.

Nah, can’t be old son………not a dog’s chance.

OK, just pin back yer Donald’s* mate.

I left here on a Wednesday a year or more ago,

I'd stuffed some day old pancakes, so ‘twas Wednesday I know.

Then I set out for Dover, via the Isle of Dogs you’ll note,

And thence across the Channel on a Dover / Calais boat.

It took no end of paw-work, over mountains thick with snow,

Until I reached the Danube; then I knew which way to go.

Down through Bohemia’s forests, ‘cross the rich Hungarian plain,

I headed out for Istanbul via camel track and lane.

Through Syria, Damascus and due South by Jordan’s stream,

Until I saw Jerusalem, the city men esteem.

And when I got to Bethlehem, my pilgrim journey’s end,

Whilst taking a siesta so’s my weary legs would mend,

I met this dog, all black and white, a sheepdog through and through,

Who chased sheep for a living, just like you and I should do.

There, he professed a story of dark days long, long ago,

A story, he insisted, that all dogs worldwide should know.

And so beneath the Beth’lem stars he told me this old tale.

That made my journey worth the trot through wind and slush and hail.

The Bethlehem Dog’s Story

Around the Julian year of nought

Augustus Caesar had a thought.

It minded him to count the Jews

And this, one Joseph, found bad news.

For Joseph was of David’s seed

And thus, for counting, he would need

To trudge his way at donkey’s pace

To Bethlehem, his natal base.

For Joseph this was no great fuss

But Mary, she might need a bus

As she’d a baby on the way;

This really wasn’t Joseph’s day.

And yet, by dint of donkey’s trot

And waving carrots quite a lot

They made it there for census day

But couldn’t find a place to stay.

Hang on mate,

where’s this dog he was on about,

the one who----

Don’t be impatient son,

this is all sub-plot, scene setting.

Right, here comes yer dog.

Now, while all this was going on

A Beth’lem sheepdog, name of Ron,

Discovered, in a barn one day

A rough hewn manger filled with hay,

So, into this he, dog tired leapt

And there, for some short while, he slept.

And as he slumbered, so he dreamed

Of Angels who, to him it seemed,

All bade him not to leave that trough

‘Til next day morn at sparrow’s cough.

And while ensconced there he should see

No beast at all ate hay for tea.

To Ron, of course, this made no sense,

He’d no idea, no clue from whence

Came Angels of whatever creed.

But this he knew: no beast would feed

On hay the Angels bound him, Ron,

To see no beast would feed upon.

Hey, just a minute, this Ron character; Ron,

that’s not exactly a Jewish name is it?

Nah, his name was Aaron,

but all his mates called him Ron; see?

Ahhh, this is well rubbish yer know---------

Give it time lad, give it time.

But when he woke Ron found it harder

Than he’d thought to keep the larder

From the gathered cows and sheep

Who tried a rush and then a creep

That they may feed on well stored hay,

Their pleasure at the close of day.

But Ron had Angels on his side,

These thieving beasts---- no place to hide.

He growled and bared his teeth and barked,

For he was staying where he’d parked

And nothing that this mob could do,

‘Though it be baa or bleat or moo

Would get them past his canine teeth,

Not round, above or underneath.

When, finally, they got the point

They knew ‘twas Ron who ruled the joint.

And after that, he cosy lay

Most snug among his bed of hay,

Where Joseph found him half asleep

And signalled him his place to keep

While Mary gave to birth her son,

A Blessing pure on everyone.

Then Joseph kissed the baby’s hands

And wrapped him snug in swaddling bands

And laid young Jesus gently on

The manger straw, warm, close to Ron.

He’d never have made it else. Not without a duvet.

No way mate, it’s right cold in them desert nights.

And there they slept into the night

Until that star’s cold, lambent light

Brought shepherds in from hill and fold

And kings with gifts of spice and gold.

But through this time Ron left his place

And, sheepdog like, he then gave chase

To shepherd’s lambs who strayed too far,

Bemused by such a brightling star;

And checked that no-one over bold

Had chance to vanish with the gold.

(For gold can be a transient thing

Unless, perchance, you are a king).

But when the quests were homeward bound

Old Joseph quietly tidied round

And cared for Mary’s ev’ry need

And gave to her their Son to feed,

Then watched in stillness, hand upon

The soft warm fur of panting Ron.

And later, with the child asleep

He laid him in that manger deep,

A cradle keeping cold at bay

Where chance he’d sleep ‘til dawn next day.

But Ron lay quietly on the floor,

On guard beside the stable door

As round its edge soft starlight crept.

While Mary and the baby slept,

And Hea’vn held breath to still the night,

(Surprised their plan had turned out right)

Ron noted Joseph’s drooping head

And started to the manger bed,

Then, giv’n the old man’s smiling nod,

Returned to warm the Son of God.

Well?

Amazing! You mean Aesop** got it wrong?

Yip; the dog had good, God given reason to keep the hay.

‘Course Ron was around six hundred years too late

Details mate, details.

Anyway, it’s all rubbish! You made it all up, or your oppo in Bethlehem did.

No mate, it’s all well documented, on top of Aesop that is.

Documented?

Yip, that carol, “Rocking” they call it, remember?

Little Jesus, sweetly sleep, do not stir;

We will lend a coat of fur……

Remember?

Cor, yer------- and that was Ron?

Yip

Amazing!

Notes: * Donald Peers 1908 – 1973 was a 1950’s pop idol. His top song was ‘In a shady nook, by a babbling brook’. There is a ‘crackly version’ on You Tube I understand. I do not recommend this; I remember the song!

** Aesop 620-560 BC wrote the Dog in a Manger fable. Dog kips in manger and stops Ox getting nosh and is considered selfish.

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