THE BAKER

I’d like to be a baker, and come when morning breaks,
Calling out, “Beeay-ko!” (that’s the sound he makes)—­
Riding in a rattle-cart that jogs and jolts and shakes,
Selling all the sweetest things a baker ever bakes;
Currant-buns and brandy-snaps, pastry all in flakes;
   But I wouldn’t be a baker if . . . 
      I couldn’t eat the cakes. 
         Would you?

THE DAWN DANCE

What do you think I saw to-day when I arose at dawn? 
Blue Wrens and Yellow-tails dancing on the lawn! 
Bobbing here, and bowing there, gossiping away,
And how I wished that you were there to see the merry play!

But you were snug abed, my boy, blankets to your chin,
Nor dreamed of dancing birds without or sunbeams dancing in. 
Grey Thrush, he piped the tune for them.  I peeped out through the glass
Between the window curtains, and I saw them on the grass—­

Merry little fairy folk, dancing up and down,
Blue bonnet, yellow skirt, cloaks of grey and brown,
Underneath the wattle-tree, silver in the dawn,
Blue Wrens and Yellow-tails dancing on the lawn.

CUPPACUMALONGA

‘Rover, rover, cattle-drover, where go you to-day?’
I go to Cuppacumalonga, fifty miles away;
   Over plains where Summer rains have sung a song of glee,
   Over hills where laughing rills go seeking for the sea,
I go to Cuppacumalonga, to my brother Bill. 
      Then come along, ah, come along! 
         Ah, come to Cuppacumalonga! 
            Come to Cuppacumalonga Hill!

‘Rover, rover, cattle-drover, how do you get there?’
For twenty miles I amble on upon my pony mare,
   The walk awhile and talk awhile to country men I know,
   Then up to ride a mile beside a team that travels slow,
And last to Cuppacumalonga, riding with a will. 
      Then come along, ah, come along! 
         Ah, come to Cuppacumalonga! 
            Come to Cuppacumalonga Hill!

‘Rover, rover, cattle-drover, what do you do then?’
I camp beneath a kurrajong with three good cattle-men;
   Then off away at break of day, with strong hands on the reins,
   To laugh and sing while mustering the cattle on the plains—­
For up to Cuppacumalonga life is jolly still. 
      Then come along, ah, come along! 
         Ah, come to Cuppacumalonga! 
            Come to Cuppacumalonga Hill!

‘Rover, rover, cattle-drover, how may I go too?’
I’ll saddle up my creamy colt and he shall carry you—­
   My creamy colt who will not bolt, who does not shy nor kick—­
   We’ll pack the load and take the road and travel very quick. 
And if the day brings work or play we’ll meet it with a will. 
      So Hi for Cuppacumalonga! 
         Come Along, ah, come along! 
            Ah, come to Cuppacumalonga Hill!