Texas Jack, you are amusin-. By Lord Harry, how I laughed
When I seen yer rig and saddle with its bulwarks fore-and-aft;
Holy smoke! In such a saddle how the dickens can yer fall?
Why, I seen a gal ride bareback with no bridle on at all!
Gosh! so-help-me! strike-me-balmy! if a bit o- scenery
Like ter you in all yer rig-out on the earth I ever see!
How I-d like ter see a bushman use yer fixins, Texas Jack;
On the remnant of a saddle he can ride to hell and back.
Why, I heerd a mother screamin- when her kid went tossin- by
Ridin- bareback on a bucker that had murder in his eye.
What? yer come to learn the natives how to squat on horse-s back!
Learn the cornstalk ridin-! Blazes!-w-at yer giv-n-us, Texas Jack?
Learn the cornstalk-what the flamin-, jumptup! where-s my country gone?
Why, the cornstalk-s mother often rides the day afore he-s born!

You may talk about your ridin- in the city, bold an- free,
Talk o- ridin- in the city, Texas Jack, but where-d yer be
When the stock horse snorts an- bunches all -is quarters in a hump,
And the saddle climbs a sapling, an- the horse-shoes split a stump?

No, before yer teach the native you must ride without a fall
Up a gum or down a gully nigh as steep as any wall-
You must swim the roarin- Darlin- when the flood is at its height
Bearin- down the stock an- stations to the Great Australian Bight.

You can-t count the bulls an- bisons that yer copped with your lassoo-
But a stout old myall bullock p-raps -ud learn yer somethin- new;
Yer-d better make yer will an- leave yer papers neat an- trim
Before yer make arrangements for the lassooin- of him;
Ere you -n- yer horse is catsmeat, fittin- fate for sich galoots,
And yer saddle-s turned to laces like we put in blucher boots.

And yer say yer death on Injins! We-ve got somethin-in yer line-
If yer think your fitin-s ekal to the likes of Tommy Ryan.
Take yer karkass up to Queensland where the allygators chew
And the carpet-snake is handy with his tail for a lassoo;

Ride across the hazy regins where the lonely emus wail
An- ye-ll find the black-ll track yer while yer lookin- for his trail;
He can track yer without stoppin- for a thousand miles or more-
Come again, and he will show yer where yer spit the year before.
But yer-d best be mighty careful, you-ll be sorry you kem here
When yer skewered to the fakements of yer saddle with a spear-
When the boomerang is sailin- in the air, may heaven help yer!
It will cut yer head off goin-, an- come back again and skelp yer.

P.S.-As poet and as Yankee I will greet you, Texas Jack,
For it isn-t no ill-feelin- that is gettin- up my back,
But I won-t see this land crowded by each Yank and British cuss
Who takes it in his head to come a-civilisin- us.
So if you feel like shootin- now, don-t let yer pistol cough-
(Our Government is very free at chokin- fellers off);
And though on your great continent there-s misery in the towns
An- not a few untitled lords and kings without their crowns,
I will admit your countrymen is busted big, an- free,
An- great on ekal rites of men and great on liberty;

I will admit yer fathers punched the gory tyrant-s head,
But then we-ve got our heroes, too, the diggers that is dead-
The plucky men of Ballarat who toed the scratch right well
And broke the nose of Tyranny and made his peepers swell
For yankin- Lib.-s gold tresses in the roarin- days gone by,
An- doublin- up his dirty fist to black her bonny eye;
So when it comes to ridin- mokes, or hoistin- out the Chow,
Or stickin- up for labour-s rights, we don-t want showin- how.
They come to learn us cricket in the days of long ago,
An- Hanlan come from Canada to learn us how to row,
An- -doctors- come from -Frisco just to learn us how to skite,
An- -pugs- from all the lands on earth to learn us how to fight;
An- when they go, as like or not, we find we-re taken in,
They-ve left behind no larnin--but they-ve carried off our tin.