Easter Monday in the city -
Rattle, rattle, rumble, rush;
Tom and Jerry, Nell and Kitty,
All the down-the-harbour -push,�
Little thought have they, or pity,
For a wanderer from the bush.

Shuffle, feet, a merry measure,
Hurry, Jack and find your Jill,
Let her - if it give her pleasure -
Flaunt her furbelow and frill,
Kiss her while you have the leisure,
For tomorrow brings the mill.

Go ye down the harbour, winding
-Mid the eucalypts and fern,
Respite from your troubles finding,
Kiss her, till her pale cheeks burn,
For to-morrow will the grinding
Mill-stones of the city turn.

Stunted figures, sallow faces,
Sad girls striving to be gay
In their cheap sateens and laces.
Ah! how different -tis to-day
Where they-re going to the races -
Yonder - up Monaro way!

Light mist flecks the Murrumbidgee-s
Bosom with a silver stain,
On the trembling wire bridge is
Perched a single long legged crane,
While the yellow, slaty ridges
Sweep up proudly from the plain.

Somebody is after horses -
Donald, Charlie or young Mac -
Suddenly his arm he tosses,
Presently you-ll hear the crack,
As the symbol of the cross is
Made on -Possum-s steaming back.

Stirling first! the Masher follows,
Ly-ee-moon and old Trump Card,
Helter skelter through the shallows
Of the willow-shaded ford,
Up the lane and past the -gallows,�
Driven panting to the yard.

In the homestead, what a clatter;
Habits black and habits blue,
Full a dozen red lips patter:
-Who is going to ride with who?�
Mixing sandwiches and chatter,
Gloves to button, hair to -do,�

Horses stamp and stirrups jingle,
-Dash the filly! won-t she wait?�
Voices, bass and treble, mingle,
-Look sharp, May, or we-ll be late;�
How the pulses leap and tingle
As you lift her featherweight!

At the thought the heart beats quicker
Than an old Bohemian-s should,
Beating like my battered ticker
(Pawned this time, I fear, for good).
Bah! I-ll go and have a liquor
With the genial -Jimmy Wood.�