A TALE OF TOOTH by HENRY E. HORNE

BIG Billy Bull
Of Bungendore,
He used to pull
Our teeth before
The railway come;
And strike me dumb,
And dead,
Your head
'Ud fairly hum,
When Billy's pincers grabbed your gum,
While 'cross your chest
His weight he prest
And pushed your 'pendix outer plumb.

But once a bloke
Named Johnny Jupp
Came down and broke
Our blacksmith up.
It turned him grey:
He tried all day
To lift
And shift
One tooth away;
Until, at last, in his dismay,
What does he do
But ties it to
The tailboards of me new spring dray.

And then we got
Into the cart,
And at a trot
We made a start;
The bloke behind,
He didn't mind,
Becos
It was
Intended kind;
Though, till he sorter grew resigned,
He yelled, of course,
To stop the horse,
And cursed us black, and blue, and blind!

So by the tooth,
Along the dust,
We dragged that youth
Till something bust;
And then we swore
And chucked it, for
There hung
And swung
Our tailboard, or
The most of it, to Johnny's "jore"
Which snapped at us
With vicious cuss,
And said, "You crimson cows, no more!"

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