Victoria's Agent-General, Mr McWhae, says that if ever we are to win our way in the fruit markets of the world we must stop the exportation of inferior fruit.
I'm only a speckled apricot, But they passed me at the docks. And they said, "He'll do -- he ain't too new, But he'll help to fill the box." So they sent me out on the bounding sea, Food for the friend, and alien -- And they said, "Look here, you make it clear You're dinkum, and Australian." Well, I did my best to pass the test. Me! that was just a runt. And a Turkey fig says to me, "Dig, You goin' to the front?" And I answered, "Yes; I must confess My figure ain't allurin', But I'm an Aussie apricot, And, lad, we're all endurin' -- And when I came to a British dame In a poor fruit pedlar's basket. She said: "What! That!" And he raised his hat, And he said, "How can you ask it? It comes from far Australia, mum, Where fruits is pretty rotten." So I went in to a rubbish tin, And, henceforth, was forgotten. But I sends a wave from me lonely grave, And I asks you is it fair That blokes like me should have to be Advertisements out there? No! Send the best! For that's the test: I've done what I could do. But can't you send some better friend As representing YOU?"
The Mooch of Life
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