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C J Dennis - The Kid
Work rating: Low

Now, this ain`t a loocid story, but it `as a `igh-class moral.
   I can mop up all the praises hurled at me by them it soots.
An` with them it don`t appeal to I don`t seek to pick a quarrel;
   But I pause to say in passin`, that I hold `em brainless coots.

Well it mighter been a nightmare or it mighter been a vision.
   Why or `ow or where it `appened, or `ow long or shot ago -
These are items I am shy of; but I`ve come to this decision:
   It all `appened some`ow somewhere, an` I`m tellin` all I know.

With this lengthy introduction - which I`m trustin`, inter-arlier,
   Will be paid for, cash, at space rates, to assist a bard in need -
(For the lot of jingle-writers in our own sun-kissed Australier
   Ain`t so sunny as it might be, on the `ole) - I`ll now proceed.

There was me - who`s most important, bein` here to tell the story -
   There was Kodak`s gloomy lodger, an` a `Enry Lawson bloke,
Also E.J. Brady`s pirate, full of husky oaths and gory,
   An` a plump and pleasin` female from an Ambrose Dyson joke.

Likewise with us at the geth`rin` Was Grant `Ervey`s Strong Australian.
   An` a curly Souter peach; it was a treat the way she dressed;
An` a Louis Esson dryad, sparsely gowned an` somewot alien
   (For which rhyme I point to many precedents amongst the best).

Also there were many others, far too noomerous to mention;
   Bron men, somwot out of drorin`, but exceedin` terse an` keen;
Yeller pups, George Reids an` dry dogs - but it is not my intention
   To innoomerate the items in a Chris`mas BULLYTEEN.

Where we were I `ave no notion, tho` it mighter been Parnassus.
   Any`ow - but I`m forgettin` one small guest that came unbid;
Standin` in a corner sulkin`, seldom speakin`, `cept to sass us,
   Rubbin` `is thin calves together, stood a Norman Lindsay kid.

But the main point of this story is that all of us was stony;
   An` we needed money badly for to give ourselves a treat.
An` we wanted to present the editor with somethin` toney
   In the shape of clubs or rest cures, just to try an` get `im sweet.

"Mates, alas, there`s nothin`left us," ses the gloomy Lawson native.
   "We can only look for other castaways from other wrecks."
When the Wild Cat, on `is windlass, scratched `is left ear contemplative
   An` remarked, "I think I`ve gotter scheme to land the fatted cheques.

"We are valuable assets," `e went on, in tones finanshul.
   "We are also reproductive, an` I think I see a chance
To relieve the present tension, an` secure a sum substanshul,
   Which all comes of my acquaintance with low schemes an` `igh finance.

"If we borrer twenty thousand on our natcheral resourses -
   On all BULLETTEEN creations - it will purchase many beers.
We can maffick, an` pay int`rest - which is a triflin` thing of course is -
   With a sinkin` fund extendin` over ninety-seven years."

Well!  To say we was elated is to put th ematter mildly.
   I can still `ear Brady`s pirate yellin`, "Bite mates, let us bite!"
I can still see Kodak`s lodger kick `is slippered feet, and wildly
   Try to borrer two-an`-sixpence on the spot....But oh, that night!

"Where do I come in?" a squeaky voice arose above our shoutin`,
   Rose an` squeaked, shrill an` insistent, over all our joyous din.
`Twas the kid, the Lindsay youngster, standin` in `is corner poutin`.
   "Take a pull, yer bloomin` wasters!  Blime, where do i come in?

"Nice lot, ain`t yer?  Garn, yer loafers!  Let the comin` generation
   Suck their theumbs an` watcher yer jag, an` `ump the bill when it comes due;
Slave an` work when you `ave snuffed it.  An` you look for veneration
   From us kids!  Why, blime, who could venerate the likes of you?

"As THE BULLYTEEN been preachin` years an` years an` years for nuffin`
   On the vice of floatin` loans ab` gettin` in the `ands of Yids?
Playin` up yer borrered money!  Eatin` drinkin`, swillin`, stuffin`!
   Then, when you `ave checukced a seven, what a picnic for the kids!"

Spare me!  You could `ear a pin drop when that little kid `ad finsihed.
  We just `ung our `eads in silence, till the Strong Australian spoke.
(Brady`s pirate tore `is whiskers, with `is lust for jags dimished;
  An` the Souter peach was sobbin` on the breast of Lawson`s bloke.)

"Comrades," ses the Strong Australian, "see our star all glory litten!
   Heed the ancient, beer-stained story!  Heed the warning of the kid!
Lo, the way of ink`s before us!  Ringing verses shall be written
   In which I shall figure largely.  Yes, I shall."  An`, `struth, `e did!

Ses the pirate, with the remnants of `is whiskers fiercely bistlin`.
   "In the war of life together we must take each wound and sear."
"Now, we care not where we`re bound for," ses the Lawson native, whistlin`
   For `is dawg.  "It`s up Matilda."  As for me, I ses, "`Ear, `ear."

As I sed, this yarn ain`t loocid, but its moral should not fail yer.
   I shall ne`er fergit that ev`nin` or the voice above the din.
It`s the cry of all the kiddies, born an` unborn, in Australyer,
   When we flash our borrered millyuns: "Blime, where do we come in?"
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