Rio Grandes Last Race, Etc. | Page 9

pet will win, though he's hardly a fighting cock, But he's game enough, and it's many a mile?that he's tramped with the travelling stock.'?The cook he banged on a saucepan lid; and, soon as the sound was heard, Under the dray, in the shadows hid, a something moved and stirred: A great tame Emu strutted out. Said Saltbush, `Here's our bird!' But Rooster Hall, and his cronies two, drove home without a word.
The passing stranger within his gates that camps with old Rooster Hall Must talk about something else than fowls, if he wishes to talk at all. For the record lies in the local Court, and filed in its deepest vault, That Peter Hall, of the Take 'Em Down, was tried for a fierce assault On a stranger man, who, in all good faith, and prompted by what he heard, Had asked old Hall if a British Game could beat an Australian bird; And old McCrae, who was on the Bench, as soon as the case was tried, Remarked, `Discharged with a clean discharge -- the assault was justified!'
Hay and Hell and Booligal
`You come and see me, boys,' he said;?`You'll find a welcome and a bed?And whisky any time you call;?Although our township hasn't got?The name of quite a lively spot --?You see, I live in Booligal.
`And people have an awful down?Upon the district and the town --?Which worse than hell itself they call;?In fact, the saying far and wide?Along the Riverina side?Is "Hay and Hell and Booligal".
`No doubt it suits 'em very well?To say it's worse than Hay or Hell,?But don't you heed their talk at all;?Of course, there's heat -- no one denies --?And sand and dust and stacks of flies,?And rabbits, too, at Booligal.
`But such a pleasant, quiet place,?You never see a stranger's face --?They hardly ever care to call;?The drovers mostly pass it by;?They reckon that they'd rather die?Than spend a night in Booligal.
`The big mosquitoes frighten some --?You'll lie awake to hear 'em hum --?And snakes about the township crawl;?But shearers, when they get their cheque,?They never come along and wreck?The blessed town of Booligal.
`But down in Hay the shearers come?And fill themselves with fighting-rum,?And chase blue devils up the wall,?And fight the snaggers every day,?Until there is the deuce to pay --?There's none of that in Booligal.
`Of course, there isn't much to see --?The billiard-table used to be?The great attraction for us all,?Until some careless, drunken curs?Got sleeping on it in their spurs,?And ruined it, in Booligal.
`Just now there is a howling drought?That pretty near has starved us out --?It never seems to rain at all;?But, if there SHOULD come any rain,?You couldn't cross the black-soil plain --?You'd have to stop in Booligal.'
. . . . .
`WE'D HAVE TO STOP!' With bated breath?We prayed that both in life and death?Our fate in other lines might fall:?`Oh, send us to our just reward?In Hay or Hell, but, gracious Lord,?Deliver us from Booligal!'
A Walgett Episode
The sun strikes down with a blinding glare,?The skies are blue and the plains are wide,?The saltbush plains that are burnt and bare?By Walgett out on the Barwon side --?The Barwon river that wanders down?In a leisurely manner by Walgett Town.
There came a stranger -- a `Cockatoo' --?The word means farmer, as all men know?Who dwell in the land where the kangaroo?Barks loud at dawn, and the white-eyed crow?Uplifts his song on the stock-yard fence?As he watches the lambkins passing hence.
The sunburnt stranger was gaunt and brown,?But it soon appeared that he meant to flout?The iron law of the country town,?Which is -- that the stranger has got to shout:?`If he will not shout we must take him down,'?Remarked the yokels of Walgett Town.
They baited a trap with a crafty bait,?With a crafty bait, for they held discourse?Concerning a new chum who of late?Had bought such a thoroughly lazy horse;?They would wager that no one could ride him down?The length of the city of Walgett Town.
The stranger was born on a horse's hide;?So he took the wagers, and made them good?With his hard-earned cash -- but his hopes they died,?For the horse was a clothes-horse, made of wood! --?'Twas a well-known horse that had taken down?Full many a stranger in Walgett Town.
The stranger smiled with a sickly smile --?'Tis a sickly smile that the loser grins --?And he said he had travelled for quite a while?In trying to sell some marsupial skins.?`And I thought that perhaps, as you've took me down,?You would buy them from me, in Walgett Town!'
He said that his home was at Wingadee,?At Wingadee where he had for sale?Some fifty skins and would guarantee?They were full-sized skins, with the ears and tail?Complete, and he sold them for money down?To a venturesome buyer in Walgett Town.
Then he smiled a smile as he pouched the pelf,?`I'm glad that I'm quit