C. J. Dennis

“ Suddenly there was a great clattering and stamping inside the Little House, and Sym began to sing his Tinker's song. "Kettles and pans! Kettles and pans! All the broad earth is the tinkering man's-- The green leafy lane or the fields are his home, The road or the river, where'er he way roam. He roves for a living and rests where he can. Then bring out your kettle! ho! kettle or pan!" There's a nice thing for you!" said the Little Red House bitterly. "What kind of a song do you call that? Any old place is good enough for his home, and I am just nothing!" ”

“ They say the eagle is a bird That sees some splendid sights When he soars high into the sky Upon his dizzy flights: He sees the ground for miles around Our house, and Billy Johnson's; But we cannot be eagles, for That would, of course, be nonsense. But you and I, some summer day, Providing we're allowed, Will go up in an aeroplane And sail right through a cloud. But, if they say we may not go, We'll stay upon the ground With other things that have no wings, And watch them walk around. They say the bottom of the sea Is beautiful to view ”

“ DEDICATION To all good children over four And under four-and-eighty Be you not over-prone to pore On matters grave and weighty. Mayhap you'll find within this book Some touch of Youth's rare clowning, If you will condescend to look And not descend to frowning. The mind of one small boy may hold Odd fancies and inviting, To guide a hand unsure and old That moves, these days, to writing. ”

“ THE AXE-MAN 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, He goes each morn with his shining axe, Trudging along by the forest tracks ”

“ THE PUBLISHER I'd like to be a publisher, And publish massive tomes Written in a massive style by blokes with massive domes-- Science books, and histories of Egypt's day and Rome's, Books of psycho-surgery to mine the minds of momes, And solemn pseudo-psychic stuff to tell where Topsy roams When her poor clay is put away beneath the spreading holms; Books about electrocuting little seeds with ohms To sternly show them how to grow in sands, and clays, and loams, And bravely burst infinitives, like angry agronomes ”

“ And he chops and he chops till the daylight goes-- High on the hills, where the blue-gum grows. (Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!) There's a log to move and a branch to lop. Now to the felling! His sharp axe bites Into a tree on the forest heights, And scarce for a breath does the axeman stop-- (Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!) Bell-birds watch him; and in the fern Wallabies listen awhile, and turn Back through the bracken, and off they hop. (Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!) Patient and tireless, blow on blow The axeman swings as the minutes go ”

“ Each boot was broken at the toe, And he'd a swag upon his back. His billy-can, as black as black, Was just the thing for making tea At picnics, so it seemed to me. 'Twas hard to earn a bite of bread, He told me. Then he shook his head, And all the little corks that hung Around his hat-brim danced and swung And bobbed about his face; and when I laughed he made them dance again. He said they were for keeping flies-- "The pesky varmints"--from his eyes. He called me "Codger". . . "Now you see The best days of your life," said he. ”

“ He's much too playful, that Cloud Horse; and, I must say, he's put you in a pretty fix." "Excuse me," said Neville, "but do you mind telling me who you are?" "I?" cried the little yellow man. "Why, I'm the Last Sunbeam, of course. I thought you knew that. My job, you know, is to shut up the show when the sunset is over. And it's pretty hard work, I can tell you, because I've got to keep on doing it all round the earth every few minutes or so. And it gets very tiresome at times. Would you believe it? I've never seen a dawn or a bright mid-day in all my life--just sunsets all the time. ”

“ And, without another glance at Neville, the man with the large ears strode off to arrange for the sunset on the next range, miles and miles away. Neville gazed at the wee yellow man hopelessly, and the wee yellow man gazed at Neville, and neither spoke a word until the man with the large ears was well out of the way. Then the Last Sunbeam grew quite cheerful again. "Well," said he, "you heard what the head scene-shifter said. You certainly can't go home by the way you came. The only thing for you to do is to go round. You'll just about have time to do it, if you hurry." ”

“ For boys my size the sudden rise is quite a heavy pull, And yet I fear a short-cut here because of Craddock's bull; So I just tease the bull till he's as mad as he can get, And then I face the corner place that's been so long to let. It's very well for Ma to tell about my dawdling habits. What would you do, suppose you knew the place was thick with rabbits? I do not stay for half a day, as Ma declares I do. No, not for more than half-an-hour--perhaps an hour--or two. Then down the drop I run, slip-slop, where all the road is slithy. And have to go quite close, you know, to Mr Horner's smithy. ”

“ POLLY DIBBS Mrs Dibbs--Polly Dibbs, Standing at a tub, Washing other people's clothes-- Rub-Rub-Rub. Poor, old, skinny arms White with soapy foam-- At night she takes her shabby hat And goes off home. Mrs Dibbs--Polly Dibbs-- Is not very rich. She goes abroad all day to scrub, And home at night to stitch. She wears her shabby hat awry, Perched on a silly comb; And people laugh at Polly Dibbs As she goes home. Mrs Dibbs--Mother Dibbs-- Growing very old, Says, "it's a hard world!" And sniffs and drats the cold. She says it is a cruel world, A weary world to roam. ”

“ Why, I go round the world once every day with the sunset. You have only to go a bit faster so as to do it in a few minutes, and with the Cloud Horse to help you that's easily managed. Don't you worry about the Cloud Horse. He has got to do just whatever I tell him. Now, excuse me for one moment and I'll give you full directions." With that the wee yellow man went behind a pink cloud and came back with a beautiful blue flower in his hand. "This," he said, handing the flower to Neville, "is a Sky Flower. ”

“ With that he smacked the Cloud Horse smartly on the flank, and in a moment it was racing into the West at a most terrific pace. Of course, now that aeroplanes have been invented, flying is not thought so wonderful as once it was. But loafing along through the air in a biplane or a monoplane at eighty or a hundred miles an hour is a very tame business when you compare it with racing the day round the world on a Cloud horse. And Neville is very probably the only person who has ever done that yet. ”

“ OUR STREET 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. ”

“ But the stockman groaned, "it's bunk for all." (Sing, di-dum, wattle-gum, wattle-gum, wattle-gum, Hey for a backblock day! Sing hey! Sing hey for a lifting lay!)
OUR COW Down by the sliprails stands our cow Chewing, chewing, chewing, She does not care what folks out there In the great, big world are doing. She sees the small cloud-shadows pass And green grass shining under. If she does think, what does she think About it all, I wonder? ”

“ Come to Cuppacumalonga Hill! 'Rover, rover, cattle-drover, how may I go too?' I'll saddle up my creamy colt and he shall carry you-- My creamy colt who will not bolt, who does not shy nor kick-- We'll pack the load and take the road and travel very quick. And if the day brings work or play we'll meet it with a will. ”

“ A CHANGE OF AIR Now, a man in Oodnadatta He grew fat, and he grew fatter, Though he hardly had a thing to eat for dinner; While a man in Booboorowie Often sat and wondered how he Could prevent himself from growing any thinner. So the man from Oodnadatta He came down to Booboorowie, Where he rapidly grew flatter; And the folk will tell you how he Urged the man from Booboorowie To go up to Oodnadatta-- Where he lived awhile, and now he Is considerably fatter. ”

“ The baker is a cross man, I think he's often sick; The fruiterer's a nice man, He gives me apples, too; The grocer says, "Good morning, boy, What can I do for you?" Of all the men in our street I like the cobbler best, Tapping, tapping at his last Without a minute's rest ”

“ It will not fade. Neville's mother thinks that is a very strange and wonderful thing. And so it is. Since that day, when Neville goes to the top of the bald hill to watch a sunset, he is almost sure that, just as the golden light is fading, he can see a little yellow man by the gateway; and it seems to him that the little yellow man waves a cheery greeting. But, whether this is so or not, Neville always waves back; and he feels very happy to think that he has a good friend inside the sunset.
THE TRAM-MAN
I'd like to be a Tram-man, and ride about all day, Calling out, "Fares, please!" ”

“ 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." ”

“ And you can't say I stop to play if I just search a minute. I look around upon the ground and, if there are no lizards, I go right on and reach the turn in front of Mrs Blizzard's. I do not seek to cross the creek, because it's deep and floody, And Ma would be annoyed with me if I came home all muddy. Perhaps I throw a stone or so at Mrs Blizzard's tank, Because it's great when I aim straight to hear the stone go "Plank!" Then west I wend from Blizzard's Bend, and not a moment wait, Except, perhaps, at Mr Knapp's, to swing upon his gate. ”

“ Left, right! buttons so bright, jackets and caps so neat. Ho, the Fire Brigade, or a dress parade of the Soldier-men is grand; But everyone, for regular fun, wants a Big-Brass-Band. The slide-trombone is a joy alone, and the drummer! He's a treat! So, Rackety-rumph! We don't go home-- Boom, Bumph! We won't go home-- Oh, we shan't go home, and we can't go home while the band is in the street. Tooral-ooral, Oom-pah! The band is in the street!
BESSIE AND THE BUNYIP Bessie met a bunyip down along the track, In his hand a billy and a swag upon his back. ”

“ The shop of Mr Roland Rutter, When Lucy Loo came out with butter. At once James Edgar John said, "That Is just the girl for me! She's fat." He offered her his heart and hand And prospects of his father's land. The Reverend Saul Sylvester Slight Performed the simple marriage rite. The happy couple went their way, And lived and loved unto this day. Events cannot be far foreseen; And all ths joy might not have been If Mr Jeremiah Jeffers Had kept his pair of spotted heifers.
TEA TALK ”