Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A TAIL OF A KANGAROO, by ANONYMOUS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A TAIL OF A KANGAROO, by                    
First Line: "it wasn't on the chinee coast, nor yet upon japan"
Last Line: As their parents are to travellers who've anything to lose
Subject(s): Fights;kangaroos;women


IT wasn't on the Chinee coast, nor yet upon Japan,
But happened on the Sydney side, not far from Marieyan—
As told me by a splitter, which his name is Blathering Jim,
A cove—you can't expect to get a lot of truth from him.

CHORUS:
But there's no gammon in this yarn, for every word is true,
How maidens four waged deadly war with an old man kangaroo.

Within a hut of she-oak slabs, all roofed with stringybark,
Four Sydney-native ladies sat, all game for any lark.
Big Jane was there (Bondingie Bill, the bullock-driver's, gal)
With Mountain Mag from Blue Lookout, and Parramatta Sal.

And Julia (whose bushranging brother Sam has come to grief)
Was cutting up and salting down a side of stolen beef,
While Mountain Mag was plaiting of a cracker for the thong
Of Jack, the boundary-rider's, whip, that lives at Bogalong.

Big Jenny dreamt the happy hours away upon the bunk,
After an evening party, where no end of lush was drunk;
And Parramatta Sal, she blowed a tidy cloud of smoke,
While coiling in her possum rug, and thought about her bloke.

Her father, who was absent with his gully-raking sons,
Was busy duffing cattle on the nearest squatters' runs—
One of the good old colonists he was, who often bragged
That though he'd been quite close to it, he'd never yet been scragged.

'Twas thus these maidens, all alone, were mustered in the hut,
When on a sudden something bumped agin the door full butt;
Then Julia spoke, that artless maid brought up in nature's school,
"Don't stand there humbugging all day; come in, you _____ fool!"

As no one answered to their call, on looking out, they saw
A booming kangaroo who'd run his head agin the door,
And being thus knocked out of time, and anxious for a swim,
Was making for the water, so the girls just went for him.

Now Julia's just the sort of girl to ride a bucking colt,
Or round a mob of cattle up, if they're inclined to bolt,
Ride on her brother's saddle all astride, or, on a push,
Do any mortal kind of work that's wanted in the bush.

And so she grabbed a roping pole, and Maggie seized the adze,
With all her ringlets streaming loose with "Follow me, my lads!"
The propstick of a bullock-dray was all that Jane could find,
But Sarah waved a waddy that the blacks had left behind.

On coming to close quarters with those formidable claws,
The "old man" made for Sarah, but she hit him in the jaws,
As Julia gave the beggar fits, with that relentless arm
That cleared the shanty ballroom near the free-selector's farm.

Then, closing, he charged Marguerite, but missed her, so she placed
A stinger in the region of the middle of his waist,
And gave him such a mauling o'er the face, and eyes, and ribs,
As fellows do each other in these rowdy fighting cribs.

The boomah sought for vengeance, and grabbed Jenny by the skirt,
But luckily it gave, and so the lady wasn't hurt,
Though it must be confessed that she was terribly in dread,
Until the ladies rallied round, and knocked him on the head.

Thus "old men" often come to grief, whene'er they chance to stray
Among the rocky gullies, where the ladies stop the way;
Because the girls are just as smart to bail up kangaroos,
As their parents are to travellers who've anything to lose.





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