Page:Not understood - and other poems (IA notunderstoodoth00braciala).pdf/23

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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.

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.

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.

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.