“I thinks reel ‘ard; an’ then I lets it go. 
  I tells ’er, out at Richmond, on me Run—­
A little place uv ten square mile or so—­
  I’m breedin’ boomerangs; which is reel fun,
When I ain’t troubled by the wild Jonops
                      That eats me crops.

“I talks about the wondrous Boshter Bird
  That builds ’er nest up in the Cobber Tree,
An’ ’atches out ’er young on May the third,
  Stric’ to the minute, jist at ‘arf pas’ three. 
’Er eyes get big.  She sez, ‘Can it be true?’
                          ’Er eyes was blue.

“An’ then I speaks uv sport, an’ tells ’er ’ow
  In ‘untin’ our wild Wowsers we imploy
Large packs uv Barrackers, an’ ’ow their row
  Wakes echoes in the forests uv Fitzroy,
Where lurks the deadly Shicker Snake ’oo’s breath
                                 Is certain death.

“I’m goin’ on to talk uv kangaroos,
  An’ ’ow I used to drive ’em four-in-’and. 
‘Wot?’ sez the Marchioness.  ’Them things in Zoos
  That ’ops about?  I’ve seen ’em in the Strand
In double ’arness; but I ain’t seen four. 
                       Tell me some more.’

“I baulks a bit at that; an’ she sez, ’Well,
  There ain’t no cause at all for you to feel
Modest about the things you ’ave to tell;
  An’ wot yeh say sounds wonderfully reel. 
Your talk’—­an’ ’ere I seen ’er eyelids flick—­
                           ’Makes me ’omesick.

“‘I reckerlect,’ she sez—­’Now, let me see—­
  In Gippsland, long ago, when I was young,
I ‘ad a little pet Corroboree,’
  (I sits up in me chair like I was stung.)
’On its ‘ind legs,’ she sez, ’it used to stand. 
                              Fed from me ‘and.’

“Uv course, I threw me alley in right there. 
  This Princess was a dinkum Aussie girl. 
I can’t do nothin’ else but sit an’ stare,
  Thinkin’ so rapid that me ’air roots curl. 
But ’er?  She sez, ’I ain’t ’eard talk so good
                           Since my child’ood.

“‘I wish,’ sez she, ’I could be back again
  Beneath the wattle an’ that great blue sky. 
It’s like a breath uv ’ome to meet you men. 
  You’ve done reel well,’ she sez.  ’Don’t you be shy. 
When yer in Blighty once again,’ sez she,
                        ‘Come an’ see me.’

“I don’t see ’er no more; ’cos I stopped one. 
  But, ’fore I sails, I gits a billy doo
Which sez, ’Give my love to the dear ole Sun,
  An’ take an exile’s blessin’ ’ome with you. 
An’ if you ’ave some boomerangs to spare,
                          Save me a pair.

“’I’d like to see ’em play about,’ she wrote,
 ‘Out on me lawn, an’ stroke their pretty fur. 
God bless yeh, boy.’  An’ then she ends ’er note,
 ‘Yer dinkum cobber,’ an’ ’er moniker. 
A sport?  You bet!  She’s marri’d to an Earl—­
                            An Aussie girl.”