Classic Poem

Bill Bullock came to Sydney, and the Jews got holt of him,
So he went and bought a " cady " that had wire round the brim —
He'd a pocket full of money and a big heart free from care —
And he bought a pair of " side-springs " like his father used to wear.

Bob-tailed coat, biled rag, no collar, and he never wore a vest:
He was somewhat out of fashion when he reckoned he was dressed.
To complete the tout ongsemble, for his sainted mother's sake,
He had bought a pair of trousers like his Granny used to make.

She had no sons, and ten daughters — and no thoughts of Wimmin's Rights —
And she made pants for her grandsons — well, according to her lights —
'Twas a work of love, the trousers made for little Will or Jack,
But the pants of William's boyhood did as nicely front to back.

But to follow Bill's adventures (and adventures followed fast)
From the time he took his first drink to the time he spilt his last,
Would take too long for the Bully , and would only be " once more " —
It's been done by Not Unfunny sort of writers oft before.

But enough that he at daylight to " The Station! " by the Quay
Dragged two badly battered nephews who had uncles in Feegee,
And departed with their straight stuff, and a crook note, one or two,
Just to serve as scalps, or " soovnirs " — like his Grand-Dad used to do.