walked to Valparaiso, and so got home, I will proceed to enliven the occasion with "The Ballad of the Bo'sun's Bride".'

[Pg 23]

And without more ado, Bill, who had one of those beef-and-thunder voices, roared out—

'Ho, aboard the Salt Junk Sarah

We was rollin' homeward bound,

When the bo'sun's bride fell over the side

And very near got drowned.

Rollin' home, rollin' home,

Rollin' home across the foam,

She had to swim to save her glim

And catch us rollin' home.'

It was a very long song, so the rest of it is left out here, but there was a great deal of rolling and roaring in it, and they all joined in the chorus. They were all singing away at the top of their pipe, as Bill called it, when round a bend in the road they came on two low-looking persons hiding behind a tree. One was a Possum, with one of those sharp, snooting, snouting sort of faces, and the other was a bulbous, boozy-looking Wombat in an old long-tailed coat, and a hat that marked him down as a man you couldn't trust in the fowlyard. They were busy sharpening up a carving knife on a portable grind-stone, but the moment they caught sight of the travellers the Possum whipped the knife behind him and the Wombat put his hat over the grindstone.

Bill Barnacle flew into a passion at these signs of treachery.

'I see you there,' he shouted.

'You can't see all of us,' shouted the Possum, and the Wombat added, ''Cause why, some of us is behind the tree.'[Pg 24]

[Pg 24]

 Prev. P 11/80 next