It's fine to see your cobbers lookin' at you like they know
You're not a man to trifle with; at least, I found it so.
Ben Murray was quite affable, an' once he whispered me
There's a certain somethin' doin', an' he'll see me privately.
I was workin' at the rip saw; for the boss had called me in,
From the peaceful bush an' quiet to the sawmill's fuss an' din;
An' there he put me tailin' out—a game I never like;
But, "Likin' isn't gettin' in the bush," says Daddy Pike.
I was workin' at the rip saw, cursin' at my achin' back,
When I saw the blessed vision comin' down the log-yard track.
There were others in the party, but the one that got my stare
Was her with two brown, laughin' eyes an' sunlight in her hair.
"More visitors!" growled old man Pike. "Another city push.
I'll bet a quid they ask us why we 'spoil the lovely bush.'"
I hardly heard him saying it, for like a fool I stand,
My eyes full of the vision an' a batten in my hand.
"You gone to sleep?" the sawyer said. "What's got you mesmerized?"
I start to work like fury, but my thoughts can't be disguised.
"Oh, Jim's gone dippy with the Spring"; replies old Pike an' grins.
I turn to answer dignified; but trip, an' bark my shins.
