Not Understood and Other Poems/Our Pet Kangaroo
OUR PET KANGAROO.
(AN AUSTRALIAN IDYLL FOUNDED ON FACT.)
WE caught the young marsupial
One Winter ere he learned to spring,
His Ma was shot, and from her pouch,
Hopp’d forth the frisky little thing;
His story’s short—his mater’s tail
Was long, and made a rich ragout,
A novel and romantic feed,
We all enjoyed that Kangaroo.
One Winter ere he learned to spring,
His Ma was shot, and from her pouch,
Hopp’d forth the frisky little thing;
His story’s short—his mater’s tail
Was long, and made a rich ragout,
A novel and romantic feed,
We all enjoyed that Kangaroo.
The little orphan soon became
Our pet; he quite familiar got.
He jumped among the saucepans, though
His loving Ma had gone to pot;
He throve so well and grew so fat,
Our chef de cuisine, Chong Ah Loo,
Petitioned us to let him try
His skill upon the Kangaroo.
Our pet; he quite familiar got.
He jumped among the saucepans, though
His loving Ma had gone to pot;
He throve so well and grew so fat,
Our chef de cuisine, Chong Ah Loo,
Petitioned us to let him try
His skill upon the Kangaroo.
But no—we scorn’d so mean a trick,
And made the Tartar-tempter fly;
He spoke of soup, and we could see
The gravy in his almond eye—
His bitter almond eye, for he
Was cruel to be kind—“For you
Me makey soupy welly lich,
All samey puppy Kangaloo.”
And made the Tartar-tempter fly;
He spoke of soup, and we could see
The gravy in his almond eye—
His bitter almond eye, for he
Was cruel to be kind—“For you
Me makey soupy welly lich,
All samey puppy Kangaloo.”
But from that day Chong never dared
To make the same suggestion: we
Some kittens lost, but that was not
A serious catastrophe;
Our native bear “vamoosed” one day,
We missed our pure-bred bull-pup too,
We mourned them not, but set our hearts
Upon the tame young Kangaroo.
To make the same suggestion: we
Some kittens lost, but that was not
A serious catastrophe;
Our native bear “vamoosed” one day,
We missed our pure-bred bull-pup too,
We mourned them not, but set our hearts
Upon the tame young Kangaroo.
We named him Budgeree—that’s “good”
In native lingo, as you know;
He earned the appellation well,
We watch’d our pet in goodness grow;
We taught him many a harmless trick,
He couldn’t smoke, but he could chew;
We always found him “up to snuff,”
He grew so cute our Kangaroo.
In native lingo, as you know;
He earned the appellation well,
We watch’d our pet in goodness grow;
We taught him many a harmless trick,
He couldn’t smoke, but he could chew;
We always found him “up to snuff,”
He grew so cute our Kangaroo.
He followed us about the house,
And on our rambles round the run;
And when his kin we hunted down,
He’d look sedate and watch the fun.
We took him once unto a ball
In Tapley’s pub at Bangaboo,
And didn’t he enjoy the hop?
You bet he did—that Kangaroo.
And on our rambles round the run;
And when his kin we hunted down,
He’d look sedate and watch the fun.
We took him once unto a ball
In Tapley’s pub at Bangaboo,
And didn’t he enjoy the hop?
You bet he did—that Kangaroo.
He skipped right through the gay Quadrille,
And joined the Waltz’s mazy whirl;
He lick’d the fiddlers foaming pint,
And kiss’d the hurdy-gurdy girl;
“Du sollst ist nicht thun!” she exclaimed
(Which means, “Now, don’t; be quiet, do!”)
And no one there enjoyed the spree
More fully than our Kangaroo.
And joined the Waltz’s mazy whirl;
He lick’d the fiddlers foaming pint,
And kiss’d the hurdy-gurdy girl;
“Du sollst ist nicht thun!” she exclaimed
(Which means, “Now, don’t; be quiet, do!”)
And no one there enjoyed the spree
More fully than our Kangaroo.
But thunder often follows calm
And clouds at times obscure the sun,
Though old, those proverbs still are trite,
The Lancers and a Waltz were done.
When Tapley jumped upon a chair,
And said, “I’ve to announce to you
That Dougal Gunn has just arrived:”
All cheered except the Kangaroo.
And clouds at times obscure the sun,
Though old, those proverbs still are trite,
The Lancers and a Waltz were done.
When Tapley jumped upon a chair,
And said, “I’ve to announce to you
That Dougal Gunn has just arrived:”
All cheered except the Kangaroo.
Big Dougal was a kilted Celt,
Who never swore an English oath,
He measured six foot three or four,
His tartans had not check’d his growth ;
At all the games he prizes won,
For bagpipe tunes—so well he blew
I thought and said, “He’ll charm our pet,
For sweet sounds please our Kangaroo.
Who never swore an English oath,
He measured six foot three or four,
His tartans had not check’d his growth ;
At all the games he prizes won,
For bagpipe tunes—so well he blew
I thought and said, “He’ll charm our pet,
For sweet sounds please our Kangaroo.
Then Dougal march’d around the room
With ribbons streaming from his pipes,
His mien was royal though he wore
So many brilliant stars and stripes.
With cheeks distended, he prepared
To play the “March of Callum Dhu;”
Our Budgeree surveyed the pipes,
And wondered much that Kangaroo.
With ribbons streaming from his pipes,
His mien was royal though he wore
So many brilliant stars and stripes.
With cheeks distended, he prepared
To play the “March of Callum Dhu;”
Our Budgeree surveyed the pipes,
And wondered much that Kangaroo.
And now the instrument emits
Preliminary grunts and groans,
Notes, wild and fitful, rise and swell,
The chanter struggles with the drones;
And louder yet, and wilder still,
The pibroch swells—when madly flew—
Crash! smash! dash!—through the window panes
Our peaceful pet, our Kangaroo.
Preliminary grunts and groans,
Notes, wild and fitful, rise and swell,
The chanter struggles with the drones;
And louder yet, and wilder still,
The pibroch swells—when madly flew—
Crash! smash! dash!—through the window panes
Our peaceful pet, our Kangaroo.
The narrative is very sad—
Full ten feet high, from off his tail
He’d sprung, he couldn’t understand
The martial music of the Gael.
We gallop’d home in hopes to find
Him safe and sound, but not a clue
From that time out we ever found
Of Budgeree, our Kangaroo.
Full ten feet high, from off his tail
He’d sprung, he couldn’t understand
The martial music of the Gael.
We gallop’d home in hopes to find
Him safe and sound, but not a clue
From that time out we ever found
Of Budgeree, our Kangaroo.
And often now, on New Year’s Day,
When sound the war notes of the Celt
Through new Edina’s streets, old times
Rush back, and cause my eyes to melt.
Fond mem’ry conjures up that night,
In Tapley’s pub. at Bangaboo,
When Budgeree left home and friends,
And fled afar, poor Kangaroo!
When sound the war notes of the Celt
Through new Edina’s streets, old times
Rush back, and cause my eyes to melt.
Fond mem’ry conjures up that night,
In Tapley’s pub. at Bangaboo,
When Budgeree left home and friends,
And fled afar, poor Kangaroo!
Yes! yes! whene’er I hear the pipes,
Old scenes will rise before my gaze,
I see the homestead lawn in spring,
Where wealthy wattles all ablaze,
Made scented sunshades for the lambs;
But bah! I’m getting quite “too too,”
I talk just like a bleating bard,
While dreaming of that Kangaroo.
Old scenes will rise before my gaze,
I see the homestead lawn in spring,
Where wealthy wattles all ablaze,
Made scented sunshades for the lambs;
But bah! I’m getting quite “too too,”
I talk just like a bleating bard,
While dreaming of that Kangaroo.