It was Spring, wild Spring! When I felt the sudden sting
Of a clout all unexpected, I was just a maddened thing—
Just a savage male thing ragin'; battle all my wits engagin'.
Instant I was up an' at him, an' I punched him round the ring.
I forgot the scents an' season; I lost count of time an' place;
An' my only aim an' object was to batter Murray's face.
Pike is dancin' wild with joy;
Dusty Dick howls, "At him, boy!"
I am at him, fast an' hard.
Then, as Murray drops his guard,
I get in one, strong an' straight,
Full of enmity an' weight.
Down he goes; the fellows shout.
"One!" starts Pike, then … "Ten—an' out!"
It was Spring, gay Spring. Still were swallows on the wing.
An', on a sudden, once again I heard the thrushes sing.
There was gold upon the wattle, an' my recent wish to throttle
Murray, as he lay there groanin', was a far-forgotten thing.
In the soft blue sky were sailin' little clouds as fine as fluff.
"Wantin' more?" I asked him gently; but Ben Murray said,
"Enough."
"Well done, Jim," says old Bob Blair.
"'Tis the brave deserves the fair."
