Old Hawkins he was jubilant, and up at Peter's store
A lovely lot of specimens was showing;
And we gazed at them and groaned, for the truth had to be owned :
We had put him on a pile without our knowing.
We couldn't let the thing slip through our fingers, so to speak.
There were thousands in the mine without a doubt.
So me and Baker Brothers, and half a dozen others,
We formed a syndicate to buy him out.
Well, he said he'd not the money to develop such a claim,
And he'd sell it if we made a decent bid.
So we made pretence at dealing, and it almost seemed like stealing
When he parted, for five hundred lovely quid.
•••••••
We haven't seen the vendor in the Flat for nigh a week,
And we're wishing, on the whole, he'd never come.
The confounded mine's a duffer; for that simple-minded buffer
He had salted it. The "expert" was a chum.
