In objecting to the Kangaroo brand for Australian butter, one speaker recently complained that some possible buyers might get the idea that the Kangaroo is actually milked and this milk manufactured into butter.
"Which reminds me," said O'Brien -- "And 'tis not a word of lyin' -- Of a summertime way back in eighty-two, Whin a felly name of Brady An' his sister (quite a lady) Ran a dairy up beyant in Wallaloo. But, in place of cows like Bossy An' Strawberry and' Flossie, It was Kangaroo she milked -- I'm spakin' true; While his pretty sister, Mary, Was the mistress of the dairy, Of the dairy of the milch Kangaroo. "Now, his neighbor, name of Cleary, He was dape in love with Mary -- Shmall blame to him; for shure she was a drame; But his love he had to smother 'Count of Mary's wealthy brother Wid his waggon-loads of Kangaroo crame; For a clever man was Brady, Tho' some thought his methods shady; For, in spite of all that they could say or do, 'Twas the thing he kept concealin', Past the hope of all revealin', Was his secrit of the milch Kangaroo. "For he milked them by the dozens; Not the Fiend and all his cousins Could discover how he kep' the bastes in bounds. Then Tim Cleary, thinkin' deeply, Wint and purchased rather cheaply, Half a dozen savage Kangaroo hounds. For 'twas ruination utter That this Brady and his butter Meant to every single soul in Wallaloo. 'An' he's overworin' Mary,' Muttered Cleary, 'wid his dairy -- Wid his dairy of the milch Kangaroo.' "Well, you've guessed it," said O'Brien; "For, widout a word of lyin', Brady's flocks an' herds were scattered far an' wide; An' 'twas aisy Cleary found him, Wid his drames in tatters round him, Whin he came to claim swate Mary for his bride." Said O'Brien: "That's the story; An' I here declare to glory, Every single, blessed word of it is thrue. An', if any would misdoubt me, I've a par of fists about me To convince yez of the milch Kangaroo."
|Copyright © Perry Middlemiss 2003|