Currants, bush-grapes and wild cherries! Grains and seeds and sugar-beet Such as field birds love to eat! Dew, in cups the gum-trees make For their lovely blossoms sake. These and other things galore That the ants and spiders store! Ev’ry sort of tasty dish Such fastidious folk could wish! Ne’er before was served such fare; Full and plenty and to spare! Supper over, oh, what fun, Was upon the lawn begun! Dances, jigs, and turkey-trots Round about forget-me-nots,— Whose sweet eyes of tender blue With amazement changed their hue, When a hammer and a spanner Underneath the Queen’s own banner, In a rather awkward manner Danced a sort of highland fling! And a lanky Adjutant,— With the red-legged Crane, his aunt, Winked his eye, and said, “I can’t Say I like this kind of thing!” But the Augers straight and strong, With their own peculiar song Drowned his voice their chords among,— As they sang: “Come along! Oh, come along! Join the happy gladsome throng! Games that everyone can play; Now’s your chance, so come away!” Ring-a-rosy! Twos and threes— Which the bees ‘Mid the trees, Played with such consummate ease, That the Ladybirds they chased Tripped and stumbled as they raced, Quite outpaced By those honey-hunter bees! And the sly and subtle chaffing Of the Lovers, who, since quaffing Each the other’s health, Had by stealth, Sought out places where they might Woo delight, Free from all the tauntings light Of the Merry-makers bright! But, of course, No resource Of the sweethearts, could perforce Any sort of quietude enforce. So they had to just submit To the things that stung or hit As do lovers everywhere! Here and there Amid the crowd Could be seen the elegant or proud; Whilst some, alas, (But let that pass,) Were what is known as “loud.” The Rake and Hoe, a wicked pair: Knight bachelors are they, With easy style, true debonair, Went strolling ‘mid the ladies fair, The gayest of the gay! The Spade went prinking round the lawn, Miss Shears was on his arm! The Hay-fork pitched about till dawn Forgetful of the Farm! The Fern-tubs frowned upon the scene, The Lattice glared its grief; The Bulbs, in pots, though quite serene, Displayed a sad belief That all this freakish capering Must bring its own relief! And so it chanced! For, with scarce a warning sound, Straightly stepping o’er the ground Where the fence was broken, found, Came the bush-folk forth to greet the Queen! From the Forest they came ranging, All in order, never changing, In a stream across the paddocks green! At their head, twelve Ibis slender,