The Sleeping Beauty
Call that a yarn! said old Tom Pugh,
What rot! Ill lay my hat
Ill sling you a yarn worth more nor two
Such pumped-up yarns as that.
And thereupon old Tommy slew
A yarn of Lambing Flat.
When Lambing Flat broke out, he said,
Mongst others there I knew
A lanky, orkard, Lunnon-bred
Young chap named Johnny Drew,
And nicknamed for his love of bed,
The Sleeping Beauty too.
He sunk a duffer on the Flat,
In compny with three more,
And makin room for this and that
They was a tidy four,
Save when the eldest, Dublin Pat,
Got drunk and raved for gore.
This Jack at yarnin licked a book,
And half the night hed spout.
But when he once turned in, it took
Old Nick to get him out.
And that is how they came to cook
The joke I tell about.
A duffer-rush broke out one day,
I quite forget where at
(It doesnt matter, anyway,
It didnt feed a cat)
And Johnnies party said theyd say
Good-bye to Lambing Flat.
Next mom rose Johnnies mates to pack
And make an early shunt,
But all they could get out of Jack
Was All right, or a grunt,
By pourin water down his back
Andwhen he turnedhis front.
The billy biled, the tea was made,
They sat and ate their fill,
But Jack upon his broad back laid,
Snored like a fog-horn still;
Well save some tea to scald him, said
The peaceful Corney Bill.
As they their beef and damper ate
And swilled their pints of tea
A bully notion all at wonst
Dawned on that rowdy three.
And Dublin Pat, in frantic mirth,
Said, Now well have a spree!
Well, arter that, Im safe to swear,
The beggars didnt lag,
But packed their togs with haste and care,
And each one made his swag
With Johnnies moleskins, evry pair,
Included in the bag.
With nimble fingers from the pegs
They soon the strings unbent,
And off its frame as sure as eggs
They drew the blessed tent,
And rolled it up and stretched their legs,
And packed the lotand went.
And scarcely praps a thing to love,
The Beauty slumbered sound,
With nought but Heavens blue above
And Lambing Flat around,
Until in sight some diggers hove
Some diggers outard bound.
They sez as twelve oclock was nigh
Well say for sure elevn
When Johnnie oped his right-hand eye
And looked straight up to Heavn:
I reckon he got more surprise
Than struck the fabled Sevn.
Clean off his bunk he made a bound,
And when he rubbed his eyes
Im safe to swear poor Johnnie found
His dander gin to rise.
For there were diggers standin round
Their missuses likewise.
O Lor! the jokeit wasnt lost,
Though it did well-nigh tear
The sides of them as came acrost
The flat to hear Jack swear,
They sez as how old Grimshaw tossed
His grey wig in the air.
Some minutes on the ground Jack lay,
And bore their screamin jeers,
And every bloke that passed that way
Contributed his sneers;
Jack cursed aloud, that cursed day
Seemed lengthened into years.
Then in a fury up he sprung
A pretty sight, you bet
And laid about him with his tongue
Advising us to get,
And praying we might all be hung
I think I hear him yet.
Then on a sudden, down he bent,
And grabbed a chunk of rock,
And into Grimshaws stomach sent
The fossil, with a shock,
And Grimshaw doubled up and went
To pieces with the knock.
And in the sun that day Jack stood
Clad only in his shirt,
And fired with stones and bits of wood,
And with his tongue threw dirt;
He fought as long as eer he could
But very few were hurt.
He stooped to tear a lump of schist
Out of the clinging soil,
By thunder, you should hear him jist,
And see the way hed coil
Upon the ground, and hug his fist,
And scratch and dig and toil!
Tis very plain hed struck it fat,
The dufferin Lunnon muff;
The scoff and butt of Lambing Flat,
Who always got it rough,
Could strike his fortune where he sat;
The joker held the stuff.
Well, thats the yarn, it aint so poor;
Them golden days is oer,
And Dublin Pat was drowned, and sure
It quenched his thirst for gore;
Old Corney Bill and Dave the Cure
I never heard on more.
The Sleepin Beautys wealthy, too,
And wears a shiny hat,
But often comes to old Tom Pugh
To have a quiet chat;
I lent him pants to get him through
His fix on Lambing Flat.
Poems by Henry Lawson
