A West Country Ballad
This is the tale of Norton
Who vowed a vow, by zounds,
To catch the varlet Gardiner
And win a thousand pounds.
"Come thither, come thither, my little page,
Whom man call Black Billee,
And saddle me up my jolly brown steed
And bring my pistols three.
"A plan I have within my head,
By which I will surround
The rascal Gardiner and his gang,
And win the thousand pounds!"
Then up he rose, that little black boy,
And grinned he broad grins three:
"You bin catch that fella Gardiner,
You budgeree Peeler be."
Then Norton mounted his jolly brown steed,
And himself was hung about
With chains and ropes and handicuffs,
To catch the rabble rout.
He looked so fierce, when he sallied forth
All booted, spurred and saddled,
That all the little dogs tucked in theire tails
And quickly off skedaddled.
On top of Weddin Mountains stood
Bold General Gardiner,
In cabbage-tree hat and scarlet shirt
And all devoid of fear.
"What dost thou here in my domain
In suchlike warlike gear?"
Then answered Norton: "It's you I seek,
Bold Francis Gardiner.
"Of course thou wilt my prisoner be,
Both thou and all thy force,
And quietly come along with me!"
Grinned Gardiner: "Oh, of course!"
"But tarry awhile, Inspector, Sir,
Become a guest of mine,
Go not so soon, 'tis well-nigh noon,
I prithee stay and dine.
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poem by Anonymous Oceania
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