The Ballad of Molly Malloo: Part 3 by Chris Owen

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The Ballad of Molly Malloo: Part 3

 

 

“Failed? Not at all,” declared Molly, “you see,

I thought that would happen. It’s time for Plan B.”

 

“Call in your family – get them around.

They can help clear all my dung off the ground.

Invite all the rellies. Invite the whole bunch.

Go tell ‘em they’re welcome to join us for lunch.”

 

So, the dung beetle sent out the word to his clan,

And in dropped his mum and his dad and his gran,

His brothers and sisters and, last but not least,

A whole troop of cousins from way over east,

And they all set about tucking into the feast.

 

Those dung beetles gobbled up cowpats galore,

Speedily scoffing a hundred or more,

Scrunching and slurping, munching and burping,

Until Molly’s paddock was clean of manure.

 

Meanwhile…

 

Those cows, you’ll remember them, Jane and Lorraine,

Were watching from over the fence, with disdain.

They jibed and they jeered. They snickered and sneered,

Calling out, cruelly, “Hey Molly, you’re weird!

Why do you hang out with those horrible critters?

They’re gross. They’re repulsive.

They give us the jitters.”

 

But Molly Malloo, with a gleam in her eyes,

Just smiled at them sweetly, for there in the skies

Over Stringybark Downs came the drone of a zillion dung-seeking…

FLIES!
 

“Aghhhhh!”

Those sisters on their faces wore a look of sheer surprise,

As they attempted everything to shoo those pesty flies.

Their legs they kicked. Their tails they flicked.

They hurled themselves around,

Twisting, twirling, swishing, swirling,

Writhing on the ground.

They jiggled, wriggled, bucked and bumped.

Then in the muddy creek they jumped…

Kasplosh!

Oh, diddums! What a cowlamity!

Bedraggled and forlorn the sisters stood, bedecked in muck,

When just from over yonder came the rumble of a truck.

 

They hollered in horror, “Alas and alack.

The farmer is wending his way down the track.

Which cows will he pick? Which heifers will go

In his truck to The Stringybark Downs Country Show?”

Now, the air in their paddock was really abuzz

And their panic was starting to grow.

 

“I cannot take you,” moaned the farmer to Jane,

“Your hide is all slobbered in slime.”

And then to Lorraine, he was heard to complain,

“Your horns are all smothered in grime.

The pair of you pong and you’re covered in flies.

You’ve absolute Buckley’s of winning a prize.”

 

The farmer lamented, “What am I to do?”

And that’s when he noticed her… “Molly Malloo?

Good golly Miss Molly, there’re no flies on you!”

 

“You’re glossy and shiny. Your hide is pristine.

Your horns are resplendent. Your tail is so clean.

It seems a small miracle here has occurred,

And now I can see you’re the belle of the herd.

Your carriage awaits – hop aboard and let’s go,

Off to The Stringybark Downs Country Show.”

The truck started up and then Molly said…

 

“No!”

Molly Malloo knew just what to do.

She felt in her heart that it had to be true.

When she looked at the beetles her happiness grew.

“My dears,” declared Molly, “I cannot leave you.”

 

“I don’t need The Show. I’m staying right here.”

And the dung beetles gave her a rapturous cheer,

“Hooray for Miss Molly! Our Cow of the Year!”

 

In Stringybark Downs you could hear the sweet sound

Of friends full of frolicsome laughter.

And Molly Malloo, with her dung busting crew,

lived happily there…heifer after.

 

THE END

 

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