LO! the Boar's tail is salted, and the Kangaroo's exalted, And his right eye is extinguished by a man-o'-warsman's cap; He is flying round the fences where the Southern Sea commences, And he's very much excited for a quiet sort of chap. For his ships have had a scrap and they've marked it on the map Where the H.M.A.S. Sydney dropped across a German trap. So the Kangaroo's a-chasing of his Blessed Self, and racing From Cape York right round to Leeuwin, from the coast to Nevertire; And of him need be no more said, save that to the tail aforesaid Is the Blue Australian Ensign firmly fixed with copper wire. (When he's filled the map with white men there'll be little to desire.)
I was sulky, I was moody (I'm inclined to being broody) When the news appeared in Sydney, bringing joy and bringing tears, (There's an undertone of sorrow that you'll understand to-morrow) And I felt a something in me that had not been there for years. Though I lean in the direction of most absolute Protection (And of wheat on the selection) And, considering Congestion and the hopeless unemployed, I'd a notion (but I hid it) that, the way the Emden did it, 'Twould be better for Australia if her "commerce" was destroyed.
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