He stripped it with a stripper and
   He bagged it with a bagger;
The bags were all so lumpy that
   They made the lumper stagger.

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 compass, 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,