" Or else you say,
As you note the way
  He wears it like a wreath,
`It cannot be fat
That bulges his hat;
  He’s got something underneath.’

“But whether or not
It’s a Puddin’ he’s got
  Can only be settled by lifting his pot. 
Or by taking a stick,
A stone or a brick,
And hitting him hard on the head with it quick. 
If he yells, you hit fat,
If he doesn’t, well that
  Will prove it’s a Puddin’ that’s under his hat.”

“Now are you satisfied?” asked Bill, and they all shouted—­

“Hurrah! hurray! 
  Just listen to that;
He knows the way
  To bell the cat. 
You’d better obey
  His judgment pat,

Without delay
  Remove the hat;
  It’s tit-for-tat,
  We tell you flat,
You’ll find it pay
  To lift your hat.

Obey the mandate of our chosen lawyer,
Remove that hat, or else we’ll do it faw yer.”

“No, no,” said the Possum, shaking his head.  “No removing people’s hats.  Removing hats is larceny, and you’ll get six months for it.”

“No bashing heads, either,” said the Wombat.  “That’s manslaughter, and we’ll have you hung for it.”

Bill scratched his head.  “This is an unforeseen predicament,” he said.  “Just mind them puddin’-thieves a minute, Ben, while we has a word in private.”  He took Sam and Bunyip aside, and almost gave way to despair.  “What a frightful situation,” wailed he.  “We can’t unlawfully take a puddin’-thief s hat off, and while it remains on who’s to prove our Puddin’s under it?  This is one of the worst things that’s happened to Sam and me for years.”

“It’s worse than being chased by wart-hogs,” said Sam.

“It’s worse than rolling off a cowshed,” said Bill.

“It’s worse than wearing soup tureens for hats,” said Sam.

“It’s almost as bad as swallowing thistle buttons,” said Bill, and both sang loudly—­

“It’s worse than running in a fright,
  Pursued by Polar bears;
It’s worse than being caught at night
  By lions in their lairs.

“It’s worse than barrel organs when
  They play from night till morn;
It’s worse than having large-sized men
  A-standing on your corn.

“It’s worse than when at midnight you
  Tread on a silent cat,
To have a puddin’-snatcher who
  Will not remove his hat.”

“All is not yet lost,” said Bunyip Bluegum.  “Without reverting to violent measures, I will engage to have the hat removed.”

“You will?” exclaimed Bill, grasping Bunyip by the hand.

“I will,” said Bunyip firmly.  “All I ask is that you strike a dignified attitude in the presence of these scoundrels, and, at a given word, follow my example.”

They all struck a dignified attitude in front of the puddin’-thieves, and Bunyip Bluegum, raising his hat, struck up the National Anthem, the others joining in with superb effect.