C J Dennis

Little Tommy Tadpole began to weep and wail,
For little Tommy Tadpole had lost his little tail;
And his mother didn't know him as he wept upon a log,
For he wasn't Tommy Tadpole, but Mr.

Wot price ole Ginger Mick? 'E's done a break - Gone to the flamin' war to stoush the foe.
Wus it fer glory, or a woman's sake? Ar, arst me somethin' easy!
I dunno.'Is Kharki clobber set 'im off a treat,
That's all I know; 'is…

Wot's in a name? — she sez . . .
An' then she sighs,
An' clasps 'er little 'ands, an' rolls 'er eyes. "A rose," she sez, "
be any other name Would smell the same.

Now,
Ma-til-der!  Ain't cher dressed yet?
I declare, the girl ain't up!
Last as ushul.  Move yerself, you sleepy'-ead!

Flippity-flop! Flippity-flop!
Here comes the butcher to bring us a chop Cantering, cantering down the wide street On his little bay mare with the funny white feet;
Cantering, cantering out to the farm,
Stripes on his apron and…

Fellers of Australier,  Blokes an' coves an' coots,
Shift yer —- carcases,  Move yer —- boots.
Gird yer —- loins up,  Get yer —- gun,
Set the —- enermy  An' watch the blighters run.

'Twas a long bush night; and the old hut light Shone out thro' the open
To flood the knees of the great bush trees And the scrub that grew before.
And, as I dreamed where the firelight gleamed, And watched the long hours lag,
Came…

Once a little sugar ant made up his mind to roam-To far away far away, far away from home.
He had eaten all his breakfast, and he had his ma's
To see what he should chance to see and here's the way he
Up and down a fern frond,…

In our street, the main street  Running thro' the town,
You see a lot of busy folk  Going up and down:
Bag men and basket men,  Men with loads of hay,
Buying things and selling things  And carting things away.

A vase upon the mantelpiece,   A ship upon the sea,
A goat upon a mountain-top   Are much the same to me;
But when you mention melon jam,   Or picnics by the creek,
Or apple pies, or pantomimes,   I love to hear you speak.

Hey, there!  Hoop-la! the circus is in town!
Have you seen the elephant?  Have you seen the clown?
Have you seen the dappled horse gallop round the ring?
Have you seen the acrobats on the dizzy swing?

What do you think I saw to-day when I arose at dawn?
Blue Wrens and Yellow-tails dancing on the lawn!
Bobbing here, and bowing there, gossiping away,
And how I wished that you were there to see the merry play!

Out across the spinifex, out across the sand,
Out across the saltbush to Never Never land That's the way the drovers go, jogging down the track - That's the way the drovers go.
But how do they come back?
Back across the saltbush…

Women is strange.  You take my tip;
I'm wise.   I know enough to know I'll never
The 'uman female mind, or wot su'prise   They 'as in store to bring yer boastin' low.
They keep yeh guessin' wot they're up to nex'

Reynard, the Fox, was asked to a party."Come", they said, in your Sunday best,
For we like good form, tho' the fun be hearty;
So all who dance must be formally dressed:
Black tail-coat and a shirt-front gleaming.

Hist! . . . . . .
Hark!
The night is very dark,
And we've to go a mile or

CrowI detest the Carrion Crow!(He's a raven, don't you know?)  He's a greedy glutton, also, and a ghoul,
And his sanctimonious
Rubs my temper on the raw.  He's a demon, and a most degraded fowl.
Blue WrenI admire the pert

'Excuse me if I sit on you,' the cup said to the saucer. 'I fear I've been here all the afternoon.''Spare excuses,' said the saucer; 'you have sat on me before, sir.' 'Oh,
I'll stir him up directly,' said the spoon.'Stop your clatter! Stop…

'Er name's Doreen…Well spare me bloomin' days!
You could er knocked me down wiv 'arf a brick!  Yes, me, that kids meself I know their ways,  An' 'as a name for smoogin' in our click!
I just lines up an' tips the saucy wink.
But strike!

An'—wilt—yeh—take—this—woman—fer—to—be Yer—wedded—wife?— . . .
O, strike me! Will I wot?
Take 'er? Doreen? 'E stan's there arstin' me! As if 'e thort per'aps I'd rather not! Take 'er? 'E seemed to think 'er kind was
Like…

Upon the road to RockaboutI came upon some sheep -A large and woolly flock
As wide as it was deep.
I was about to turn
To ask the man to

Old farmer Jack gazed on his wheat, And feared the frost would nip it.
Said he, "
it's nearly seven feet - I must begin to strip 'it.
He stripped it with a stripper and He bagged it with a bagger;

"I wish't yeh menat it,
Bill." Oh, 'ow me 'eart Went out to 'er that evnin' on the beach.
I knew she weren't no ordinary tart,
My little peach!

High on the hills, where the tall trees grow,
There lives an axeman that I know.
From his little hut by a ferny creek,
Day after day, week after week