672 RUDYARD KIPLING'S VERSE
This is the mouth-filling song of the race that was run by a
Boomer.
Run in a single burst only event of its kind Started by Big God Nqong from Warrigaborrigarooma, Old Man Kangaroo first, Yellow-Dog Dingo behind.
Kangaroo bounded away, his back-legs working like pistons Bounded from morning till dark, twenty-five feet at a bound. Yellow-Dog Dingo lay like a yellow cloud in the distance Much too busy to bark. My! but they covered the ground!
Nobody knows where they went, or followed the track that
they flew in,
For that Continent had n't been given a name. They ran thirty degrees, from Torres Straits to the Leeuwin (Look at the Atlas, please), then they ran back as they came.
S'posing you could trot from Adelaide to the Pacific, For an afternoon's run half what these gentlemen did You would feel rather hot, but your legs would develop
terrific Yes, my importunate son, you'd be a Marvellous Kid!
The Sing-Song of Old Man Kangaroo.
I've never sailed the Amazon,
I've never reached Brazil; But the Don and Magda/ena,
They can go there when they will!
Yes, weekly from Southampton, Great steamers, white and gold, Go rolling down to Rio (Roll down roll down to Rio!). And I'd like to roll to Rio
Some day before I'm old!