The Magic Pudding

along with Uncle Upon a chicken coop.

  'And this here niece of Buncle, When they got safe to land, For havin' saved her Uncle, The Noble Hearl of Buncle, She offered Sam her hand.

  'And that old Uncle Buncle, For joy of his release, On Burgundy got drunk all Day in Castle Buncle, Which hastened his decease.

  'The lovely maiding Buncle Inherited the land; And, now her aged Uncle Has gone, the Hearl of Buncle Is Sam, the foremast hand.'

  'Of course,' said Sam modestly, 'the song goes too far in sayin' as howI married the Hearl's niece, because, for one thing, I ain't a marryin'man, and for another thing, what she really sez to me when we got toland was, "You're a noble feller, an' here's five shillin's for you, andany time you happen to be round our way, just give a ring at theservants' bell, and there'll always be a feed waitin' for you in thekitchen." However, you've got to have songs to fill in the time with,and when a feller's got a rotten word like Buncle to find rhymes for,there's no sayin' how a song'll end.'

  'The exigencies of rhyme,' said Bunyip Bluegum, 'may stand excused froma too strict insistence on verisimilitude, so that the general gaiety isthereby promoted. And now,' he added, 'before retiring to rest, let usall join in song,' and grasping each other's hands they loudly sang--

  THE PUDDIN'-OWNERS' EVENSONG

  'Let feeble feeders stoop To plates of oyster soup. Let pap engage The gums of age And appetites that droop; We much prefer to chew A Steak-and-kidney stew.

  'Let yokels coarse appease Their appetites with cheese. Let women dream Of cakes and cream, We scorn fal-lals like these; Our sterner sex extols The joy of boiled jam rolls.

  'We scorn digestive pills; Give us the food that fills; Who bravely stuff Themselves with Duff, May laugh at Doctor's bills. For medicine, partake Of kidney, stewed with steak.

  'Then plight our faith anew Three puddin'-owners true, Who boldly claim In Friendship's name The noble Irish stoo, Hurrah, Hurrah, Hurroo!'