tain side.
And Jim, hands down, and teeth firm set,
On a horse that never has failed him yet,
Is after them down the range.
Well ridden! well ridden! they wheel--whoa back!
And long and loud the stockwhips crack,
Their flying course they change,
"Steadily does it--let Sambo go!
Open those sliprails down below.
Smart! or you'll be too late.
They'll follow old Sambo up--look out!
Wheel that black horse--give Sam a clout.
They're in! Make fast the gate."

. . . . .

The mob is safely in the yard!
The old man mounts delighted guard.
No thought has he but for his prize.
Jim catches poor Amelia's eyes.
"Will you come after all? the job is done,
And Crazy Jane is fit to run
For a prince's life--now don't say no;
Slip on while the old man's down below
At the inner yard, and away we'll go.
Will you come, my girl?" "I will, you bet,
We'll manage this here elopement yet."

. . . . .

By the winding Wollondilly stands the hut of Ringer Jim.
And his loving little Meely makes a perfect god of him.
He has stalwart sons and daughters, and, I think, before he's done,
There'll be numerous "Six-fortys" taken on Mylora run.

The Pannikin Poet

There's nothing here sublime,
But just a roving rhyme,
Run off to pass the time,
With nought titanic in
The theme that it supports,
And, though it treats of quarts,
It's bare of golden thoughts--
It's just a pannikin.

I think it's rather hard
That each Australian bard--
Each wan, poetic card--
With thoughts galvanic in
His fiery soul alight,
In wild aerial flight,
Will sit him down and write
About a pannikin.

He makes some new-chum fare
From out his English lair
To hunt the native bear,
That curious mannikin;
And then when times get bad
That wandering English lad
Writes out a message sad
Upon his pannikin:

"Oh, mother, think of me
Beneath the wattle tree"
(For you may bet that he
Will drag the wattle in)
"Oh, mother, here I think
That I shall have to sink,
There ain't a single drink
The water-bottle in."

The dingo homeward hies,
The sooty crows uprise
And caw their fierce surprise
A tone Satanic in;
And bearded bushmen tread
Around the sleeper's head--
"See here--the bloke is dead!
Now where's his pannikin?"

They read his words and weep,
And lay him down t