(Air-‘King of the Cannibal Islands’)
Dick Briggs a wealthy farmer’s son
To England lately took a run
To see his friends and have some fun;
He’d been five years in Australia.
Arrived in London off he went
To his native village down in Kent
For in that pleasant spot he meant
That lots of his rhino should be spent.
No splendid fine clothes on had he
But a jumper and boots up to the knee
With a dirty hat of cabbage-tree,
The costume of Australia.
Chorus So if you ever take a run
To England for a bit of fun
You’re safe to astonish everyone
With the queer ways of Australia.
To the farm he went in this array
And his sister came out and did say,
‘We don’t want anything today’
To her brother from Australia.
Says he, ‘What, don’t you know poor Dick?’
She recognized him pretty quick
And the family all rushed out slick
And his dad embraced him like a brick.
There was joy and feasting there that night,
Dick was quite a welcome sight
For of course they hailed with great delight
The wanderer from Australia.
Now instead of a glass of home-brewed ale
Every morning he’d not fail
To sing out for a gin cocktail,
A favourite drink in Australia.
He talked away at a fearful rate
Of nobblers and of brandy straight;
On spiders too he would dilate
And astonish his poor sister Kate.
He kissed the buxom servant maid,
Nice pranks I tell you he played-
Says he, ‘My dear don’t be afraid,
It’s a way we’ve got in Australia.’
The blessed cattle on the farm
Regarded him with great alarm,
His swearing acted like a charm-
He gave ’em a touch of Australia.
He talked bullock and ‘no flies’
And when he blessed poor Strawberry’s eyes
They regarded him with great surprise
For out of them he took a rise.
‘Fie, fie’ his mother cried one day,
‘What dreadful wicked words you say!’
Says he, ‘Lor’, mother, that’s the way
We wake ’em up in Australia.’
To a great fox-hunt he went one day
And on horseback made a grand display
And in his red coat looked so gay,
So different to Australia.
The huntsman said with a joyous brow,
‘There’s music for you, listen now!’
Says Dick, ‘I hear no music, I vow,
For those dashed dogs make such a row.
Fox-hunting’s pretty sport it’s true,
But I’d sooner, I declare to you,
Run down an old-man kangaroo
Or a flying doe in Australia.’
The winter he found dreadful cold;
And instead of rising early, I’m told,
Till ten o’clock in the blankets rolled,
And wished himself in Australia.
He couldn’t stand the frost and snow,
My word it made him shiver so,
Out of doors he wouldn’t go
But sit at the fire to get in a glow.
The summer came and his blood was thinned
But he couldn’t exist without a hot wind
And he grumbled because his nose wasn’t skinned
By the glaring sun (Like it used to be) of Australia.
Dick went to London for a spree,
And got drunk there most gloriously;
He gave them a touch of ‘Coo-oo-ee!’
The bush cry of Australia.
He took two ladies to the play,
Both so serene, in dresses gay;
He had champagne brought on a tray
And said, ‘Now girls, come fire away.’
They drank till they could drink no more,
And then they both fell on the floor.
Cried Dick, as he surveyed them o’er,
‘You wouldn’t do for Australia.’
(Charles R Thatcher)
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Based on Topics: Night Poems, Joy & Excitement Poems, Cry Poems, Fire Poems, Mothers Poems, Summer Poems, Snow Poems, Music Poems, Winter Poems, Running Poems, Listening PoemsBased on Keywords: skinned, grumbled, dilate, cocktail, buxom, lor, cannibal, cabbage-tree, old-man, briggs, jumper