A Rabbiter's Lament (1930)
(By Lu Bricant.)
My 'fourteen Ford, thou pre-war fraud,
Which standeth weakly by,
With rusty sides and twisted board.
And mudguards all awry.
Fret not to climb thy daily hill,
With frequent ghastly knock ;
Thou always will cough up a bill
That's ever mine to sock !
Old rubbish cart, thou failed to start
Off with thy load of rabbits;
I felt like tearing thee apart--
It is one of my habits !
And after that I raised a lump.
Through living on thy crank :
I ought to run thee up a stump,
Or down a railway bank.
My dreams of cash were mostly trash,
In many wads, and bulky ;
Oh, Limpin' Liz, th'ast done thy dash,
I'm gonna get a sulky.
Thou aren't a handsome sight at best,
To go upon the spree,
I could not park thee with the rest,
In first-class company.
Next year what thrills, no garage bills,
And never, more, thank Heaven,
Need route be picked avoiding hills,
Exceeding one in seven.
And as we rattle to the Chow
Through many downhill lanes,
I vow who overtakes thee now
Can have thee for his pains.
Notes
From the NSW magazine the Land Friday 25 July 1930, p. 2 S.
This poem seems to be more about the old 1914 Ford than about rabbits. The last verse tells us that the rabitter is delivering his catch to a Chinese merchant.