Let poets sing of English girls,
Their beauty and their candour;
Give me a sweeter nymph than all,
The lass of Yackandandah.
When dress'd in all her Sunday best,
No Melbourne belle looks grander;
In sheeny Sabbath satin shines
The lass of Yackandandah.
Her spotless name hath never known
One touch or taint of slander,
Though barmaid at the 'Harrow' is
The lass of Yackandandah.
I'd like to see the man who'd dare
With calumny to brand her,
He'd find he'd got his match in her,
The lass of Yackandandah.
Her tongue subdues us, one and all,
We dare not reprimand her;
Each brawling sot is mute before
The lass of Yackandandah.
The lazy landlord long has ceased
The effort to command her;
And in the 'Harrow' reigns supreme
The lass of Yackandandah.
She draws a cork with such an air,
No mortal can withstand her;
She turns a tap, arid turns our heads,
The lass of Yackandandah.
When she's behind the bar, I stand
And stare, like any gander;
Whereat, she calls me silly goose,
The lass of Yackandandah.
For her dear sake a goose I'd be,
A bunyip, salamander,
Or anything, in short, to win
The lass of Yackandandah.
I wish I were Belshazzar, or
The Emp'ror Alexander,
My crown I'd lay at her dear feet,
The lass of Yackandandah.
My wages all in drinking healths
To her, I weekly squander,
Yet cannot drown my passion for
The lass of Yackandandah.
When in the house, from off her face,
My eyes they never wander,
But do not melt her stony heart,
The lass of Yackandandah.
Her coldness is enough to raise
An angel's bile or dander,
She'll be the death of me I know,
The lass of Yackandandah.
Oh would that I, in marriage, could
Within a week demand her.
For rest I can't, till I obtain
The lass of Yackandandah.
Melbourne Punch, June 11.
Notes
From the Tasmanian Newspaper The Courier 26 Feb 1891 Page 3.
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