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This was written about the same farmer in another poem of mine - There's Always Wan.
This time he is trying to use his border collie to round up some sheep ("Leesters") and cattle ("base"), and is losing the rag!
Sorry about the Anglo-Saxon vernacular mixed with Ulster Scot, but that's just the way he talks.

Come by

Fdf5205c-8b5b-4da8-a6dc-63fe28d680a9by Billy J. Stewart14 Jan 2014

Come by ye freekin' eegit,
Come by tay hell,
What a waste of me hard-earned dough,
For a hound that is under a spell.
Go wide, Ah said WIDE!
Ah buggar to that,
The base are al' scattered and free,
If I'm ever to get to the auction in town,
Donemana wil hiv tay wait for me.
Ah fer frigs sake no more,
Can ye naw unnerstand,
Plain inglish, not that its hard,
When I taul ye to stap,
Which I marked way a clap,
Now in cow shite I'm liberally showered.
Come by, Come by,
The Leesters are frettin',
While you're sitting there in the grass,
Wud ye freakin' shuddup,
Ye scurrilous pup,
Or I'll stick me toe up yer ass.
It was two hunnerd poun'
Tay a man in the town,
When he saul ye to me long ago,
If I hid a thought,
What a hound-dog I got,
I'd a geen him a bit o' me toe.
Ye're crabbit an' thick,
Feel the en' o' me stick,
I wish ye were well bred like me,
But a tifty ye are,
Come by from afar,
An' take yer leg down by that tree.
Git up o' yer belly,
Climb over me welly,
And jump on the back of the Massy,
For we're bate out tonight,
An' we're covered in shite,
If they seen us they'd think we were sassy.
At the en' o' the day,
We're naw worth the pay,
So we're better aff out of the muck,
Will ye "come by" the morra
After A've drowned me sorra,
Or to the Funny Farm I'll hif to be tuk.