| |
| THE COMMISSIONER bet me a pony—I won, | |
| So he cut off exactly two-thirds of my run; | |
| For he said I was making a fortune too fast, | |
| And profit gained slower the longer would last. | |
| |
| He remarked, as devouring my mutton he sat, | 5 |
| That I suffered my sheep to grow sadly too fat; | |
| That they wasted waste land, did prerogative brown, | |
| And rebelliously nibbled the droits of the Crown; | |
| |
| That the creek that divided my station in two | |
| Showed that Nature designed that two fees should be due. | 10 |
| Mr. Riddle assured me’t was paid but for show, | |
| But he kept it and spent it, that ’s all that I know. | |
| |
| The commissioner fined me because I forgot | |
| To return an old ewe that was ill of the rot, | |
| And a poor wry-necked lamb that we kept for a pet; | 15 |
| And he said it was treason such things to forget. | |
| |
| The commissioner pounded my cattle because | |
| They had mumbled the scrub with their famishing jaws | |
| On the part of the run he had taken away, | |
| And he sold them by auction the costs to defray. | 20 |
| |
| The border police they were out all the day | |
| To look for some thieves who had ransacked my dray; | |
| But the thieves they continued in quiet and peace, | |
| For they ’d robbed it themselves, had the border police! | |
| |
| When the white thieves had left me the black thieves appeared, | 25 |
| My shepherds they waddied, my cattle they speared; | |
| But from fear of my license I said not a word, | |
| For I knew it was gone if the Government heard. | |
| |
| The commissioner’s bosom with anger was filled | |
| Against me because my poor shepherd was killed; | 30 |
| So he straight took away the last third of my run, | |
| And got it transferred to the name of his son. | |
| |
| The son had from Cambridge been lately expelled, | |
| And his license for preaching most justly withheld! | |
| But this is no cause, the commissioner says, | 35 |
| Why he should not be fit for my license to graze. | |
| |
| The cattle, that had not been sold at the pound, | |
| He took with the run at five shillings all round, | |
| And the sheep the blacks left me at sixpence a head,— | |
| A very good price, the commissioner said. | 40 |
| |
| The Governor told me I justly was served, | |
| That commissioners never from duty had swerved; | |
| But that if I ’d a fancy for any more land | |
| For one pound an acre he ’d plenty on hand. | |
| |
| I ’m not very proud! I can dig in a bog, | 45 |
| Feed pigs, or for firewood can split up a log, | |
| Clean shoes, riddle cinders, or help to boil down— | |
| Anything that you please, but graze lands of the Crown! | |
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