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Musings in Maoriland

Bush Children

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Bush Children.

Eyes of hazel and of blue,
  Raven locks and golden tresses,
Lips of rosy-tinted hue
  Pouting for the fond caresses,
Laughter filling hearts with joy,
  As the merry moments whirl,
Father loves his manly boy,
  Mother dotes upon her girl.

Gambolling across the glade,
  Sporting through the tea-tree mazes,
Resting 'neath the wattle's shade,
  When the summer's red sun blazes;
Fondling the dear pet lamb,
  Patting Bob, the sleek old coley,
Teasing Bill, the aged ram,
  Driving Redman, Sam, and Poley.

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Seeking for the 'possum's nest,
  In the wrinkled box-tree hollow;
Breaking in upon his rest,
  "Let him run, and Pinch will follow."
Hunting for the hidden sweets
  Where the wild bush-bees are humming;
Listening for the cheerful bleats
  When the shepherd home is coming.

"Willie, give the lads a call,
  We must have a game at cricket;
Jack and you can stop the ball,
  I will stand to guard the wicket."
Play your games, you merry crew,
  Now's the time for recreation,
By-and-by there's work to do,
  You have yet to build a nation.

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