Explore "Collected Poetry" by Andrew Barton Paterson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The run of Billabong-go-dry / Is just beyond Lime Burner's Gap; / Its waterhole and tank supply / Is excellent--upon the map. / But, lacking nature's liquid drench, / The station staff are wont to try / With "Bob-in Sweeps" their thirst to quench, / Or nearly quench, at Bong-go-dry.
The parson made five-yearly rounds / That soil of arid souls to delve, / He wrote, "I'll come for seven pounds, / Or I could stop away for twelve." / But lack of lucre brought about / The pusillanimous reply: / "Our luxuries are all cut out, / You'll have to come to Bong-go-dry."