RHYMES OF OUR OWN LAND.

Otago Witness, Issue 2369, 27 July 1899, Page 45

RHYMES OF OUR OWN LAND.

♦ By David M'Kee Weight.

No. 3.— MARY. Flash. Jim Taylor from the Blackburn Creek Came to the station on Sunday week, ' I saw him ride by the stockyard gate, And I said, " Old man, you come too late — Come too late for Mary." Oh, Mary, with the flush of the rose on her cheek, Went riding with me on Sunday week, Tlie glint of the gold was bright on her hair, I said, " Old man, you needn't care — Care for me and Mary — And it's best to know that your own cake's dough, "■ iTour potato's cooked with Mary." When first she came to Barravale the summer skies were blue, The critics of the station hut pronounced the girl would do, And in the evenings after hours they used to hang about To get a yarn with Mary or a chance to take her out; And Tom had on a smarter tie, and Bill a smarter grin, And I myseif among the rest shaved clean and went to win. It was, Mary, pretty Mary, I love you, can't you see? And, Mary, Mary, Mary, won't you smile on me? Slio smiled on Bill, she smiled on Tom, she smiled on me as well; And in the dance at Blackburn Creek they made our Mary belle; She laughed so light, she danced so well, she looked so blooming sweet I'd have rolled along the gutter for a carpet for her feet; Sbe danced with Tom, she danced with Bill, and ha-lf-a-dozen more, And she took me straight to heaven as we skimmed along the floor. It was, Mary, pretty Mary, I love you, can't you see? And, Mary, Mary, Mary, won't you smile on me? The beauties' of the Blackburn Creek were getting mad with spite, For flash Jim Taylor hung around our Mary all the night, And Jim has got a fairish farm, and stuff his father saved, So Blackburn thought it scandalous the way that he behaved. She smiled on Jim till Bill got mad, and Tom in whispers swore, And, "Can't she flirt?" said every miss that whisked along the floor. It wa3, Mary, pretty Mary, I love you, can't you see? And, Mary, Mary, Mary, won't you smile on me? Inside the gate a biggish tree hangs right across the walk Whore Mary came along with me to have a parting talk, I had my arm about her waist, her breath was on nay face (It's mostly quickest legs that win in any sort of race). The other chaps had gone to bed, and we were all alone, I took my Mary in my arms and claimed her for my own. * It was, Mary, pretty Mary, I love you, can't you see? And Mary, Mary, Mary, won't you smile on me? Flash Jim Taylor from the Blackburn Creek Came to the station on Sunday week, I saw him ride by the stockyard gate, And I said, " Old man you come too late — Come too late for Mary." Oh, Mary, with the flush of the rose on her cheek, Went riding with me on Sunday week, The glint of the gold was bright on her hair, I said " Old man you needn't care — Care for me and Mary — And it's be3t to know that your own cake's dough, Your potato's cooked with Mary." Oamaru, July, 1899.