The lumper staggered up the stack Where he was told to stack it; And Jack was paid and put the cash Inside his linen jacket.

OLD BLACK JACKO

Old Black Jacko Smokes tobacco In his little pipe of clay.

Puff, puff, puff, He never has enough Though he smokes it all day.

But his lubra says, "Mine tink dat Jacky Him shmoke plenty too much baccy."

BIRD SONG

I detest the Carrion Crow!

(He's a raven, don't you know?) He's a greedy glutton, also, and a ghoul, And his sanctimonious caw Rubs my temper on the raw.

He's a demon, and a most degraded fowl.

I admire the pert Blue-wren And his dainty little hen-- Though she hasn't got a trace of blue upon her; But she's pleasing, and she's pretty, And she sings a cheerful ditty; While her husband is a gentleman of honour.

I despise the Pallid Cuckoo, A disreputable "crook" who Shirks her duties for a lazy life of ease.

I abhor her mournful call, Which is not a song at all But a cross between a whimper and a wheeze.

THE SAILOR

I'd like to be a sailor--a sailor bold and bluff-- Calling out, "Ship ahoy!" in manly tones and gruff.

I'd learn to box the compa.s.s, and to reef and tack and luff; I'd sniff and snifff the briny breeze and never get enough.

Perhaps I'd chew tobacco, or an old black pipe I'd puff, But I wouldn't be a sailor if . . .

The sea was very rough.

Would you?

THE FAMINE

Cackle and lay, cackle and lay!

How many eggs did you get to-day?

None in the manger, and none in the shed, None in the box where the chickens are fed, None in the tussocks and none in the tub, And only a little one out in the scrub.

Oh, I say! Dumplings to-day.

I fear that the hens must be laying away.

THE FEAST

Cackle and lay, cackle and lay!

How many eggs did you get to-day?

Two in the manger, and four in the shed, Six in the box where the chickens are fed, Two in the tussocks and ten in the tub, And nearly two dozen right out in the scrub.

Hip, hooray! Pudding to-day!

I think that the hens are beginning to lay.

UPON THE ROAD TO ROCKABOUT

Upon the road to Rockabout I came upon some sheep-- A large and woolly flock about As wide as it was deep.

I was about to turn about To ask the man to tell Some things I wished to learn about Both sheep and wool as well,

When I beheld a rouseabout Who lay upon his back Beside a little house about A furlong from the track.

I had a lot to talk about, And said to him "Good day."

But he got up to walk about, And so I went away--

A CHANGE OF AIR

Now, a man in Oodnadatta He grew fat, and he grew fatter, Though he hardly had a thing to eat for dinner; While a man in b.o.o.boorowie Often sat and wondered how he Could prevent himself from growing any thinner.

So the man from Oodnadatta He came down to b.o.o.boorowie, Where he rapidly grew flatter; And the folk will tell you how he Urged the man from b.o.o.boorowie To go up to Oodnadatta-- Where he lived awhile, and now he Is considerably fatter.

POLLY DIBBS

Mrs Dibbs--Polly Dibbs, Standing at a tub, Washing other people's clothes-- Rub-Rub-Rub.

Poor, old, skinny arms White with soapy foam-- At night she takes her shabby hat And goes off home.

Mrs Dibbs--Polly Dibbs-- Is not very rich.

She goes abroad all day to scrub, And home at night to st.i.tch.

She wears her shabby hat awry, Perched on a silly comb; And people laugh at Polly Dibbs As she goes home.

Mrs Dibbs--Mother Dibbs-- Growing very old, Says, "it's a hard world!"

And sniffs and drats the cold.

She says it is a cruel world, A weary world to roam.

But G.o.d will smile on Polly Dibbs When she goes Home.

I suspect the Kookaburra, For his methods are not thorough In his highly praised campaign against the snakes.

And the small birds, one and all, Curse him for a cannibal-- Though he certainly is cheerful when he wakes.