RHYMES OF OUR OWN LAND.

Otago Witness, Issue 2370, 3 August 1899, Page 62

RHYMES OF OUR OWN LAND.

By David M'Kee Wright.

No. 4.—THE NEW-CHUM. The new-chum came to the laud oi the south, and a very xzvr chum was he, And he brought a stock of notions, made in a land beyond the sea; He said he would open the natives' eyes, which there's no mistake he did, For he wasn't one of the kind of chaps to keep his talents hid. Wouldn't he like to be home again Dressed in a suit of decent black? The South is a land of grief and pain, . Wouldn't he like to be home again, Home from the wallaby track? There wasn't a job on all the plain, Long he tramped, and tramped in vain, Round the stations and back again With his new-chum bundle pn his back. They asked him if he could milk a cow, and he said he could if he tried, But the cow was fond of a bovine joke and the new-chum nearly died; They asked him if he could drive a dray, as a matter of course he could; But the chaps that saw him harness up divined the joke was good. Wouldn't he like to be home again, etc. He got the breeching over the neck, and the cart-saddle over that, And the horse in mild-eyed wonder stood to know what game he was at, And the boss laughed loud, and the chaps joined in, and the new-chum weakly said They'd a different kind of harness made in the land where he was bred. Wouldn't he like to be home again, etc. They asked him to cook for a ploughman's camp, —he said he was good at that; But sad was the tea and sadder the stew that he served to Mick and Pat, For the spuds that were still their dear delight were hard as the hard mill-stone, And he made up dishes out of his head in a way that was all his own. Wouldn't he like to be home again, etc. They asked him if he could sing a song, and he did, and they yelled " encore." For, whatever it was that he couldn't do, it was plain he had sung before; And they took to him kindly after that, and meekly endured their lot, And ate the mysterious kinds of things he brought from the seething pot. Wouldn't he like to be home again, etc. So he willingly toiled at a slender wage till he learned a thing or two, But the hardest lesson of all the lot was to learn what he couldn't do; Still he battled bravely a step at a time and at last he took his degree, An old-chum trained for seven long years in colonial mystery. Wouldn't he like to be home again Dressed in a suit of decent black? He has had his turn of grief and pain, But he wouldn't settle at home again After his life out back. There isn't a job on all the plain That he hasn't tackled again and again, And he doesn't go tramping around in vain, For he's done with the wallaby track. Oamaru.