And Other Poems.
23
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.
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.
