The Magic Pudding: Being the Adventures of Bunyip Bluegum and His Friends Bill Barnacle & Sam Sawnoff — John Shaqi
The Magic Pudding: Being the Adventures of Bunyip Bluegum and His Friends Bill Barnacle & Sam SawnoffLindsay, Norman
General
The Magic Pudding: Being the Adventures of Bunyip Bluegum and His Friends Bill Barnacle & Sam Sawnoff
Lindsay, Norman
Animals -- Juvenile fiction; Australia -- Juvenile fiction; Fantasy literature; Humorous stories; Puddings -- Juvenile fiction
At about the fifteenth verse they came to the town of Tooraloo,
and that put a stop to the singing, because you can't sing in the
public streets unless you are a musician or a nuisance. The town
of Tooraloo is one of those dozing, snoozing, sausage-shaped places
where all the people who aren't asleep are only half awake, and
where dogs pass away their lives on the footpaths, and you fall
over cows when taking your evening stroll.
There was a surprise awaiting them at Tooraloo, for the moment they
arrived two persons in bell-toppers and long-tailed coats ran out
from behind a fence and fell flat on their backs in the middle of
the road, yelling "Help, help! thieves and ruffians are at work!"
The travellers naturally stared with amazement at this peculiar
conduct. The moment the persons in bell-toppers caught sight of
them they sprang up, and striking an attitude expressive of
horror, shouted:
"Behold the puddin'-thieves!"
"Behold the what?" exclaimed Bill.
"Puddin'-thieves," said one of the bell-topperers. "For well you
know that that dear Puddin' in your hand has been stolen from its
parents and guardians which is ourselves." And the other bell-
topperer added, "Deny it not, for with that dear Puddin' in your
hand your guilt is manifest."
"Well, if this ain't enough to dumbfound a codfish," exclaimed
Bill. "Here's two total strangers, disguised as undertakers,
actually accusin' us of stealin' our own Puddin'. Why, it's
outside the bounds of comprehension!"
"It's enough to stagger the senses," said Sam.
"It's enough to daze the mind with horror," said Bill.
"Come, come," said the bell-topperers, "cease these expressions
of amazement and hand over the stolen Puddin'."
"What d' yer mean," exclaimed Bill, "by callin' this a stolen
Puddin'? It's a respectable steak-and-kidney, apple-dumplin',
grand digestive Puddin', and any fellers in pot-hats sayin' it's
a stolen Puddin' is scoundrels of the deepest dye."
"Never use such words to people wearing bell-toppers," said one
of the bell-topperers, and the other added, "With that dear Puddin'
gazing up to heaven, how can you use such words?"
"All very fine, no doubt," sneered Bill, "but if you ain't
scoundrels of the deepest dye, remove them hats and prove you
ain't afraid to look us in the eye."
"No, no," said the first bell-topperer. "No removing hats at
present on account of sunstroke, and colds in the head, and
doctor's orders. My doctor said to me only this morning,
'Never remove your hat.' Those were his words. 'Let it be
your rule through life,' he said, 'to keep the head warm,
whatever happens.'"
"No singing `God save the King,' neither," said the other
belltopperer. "Let your conduct be noble, and never sing the
National Anthem to people wearing bell-toppers."
"In fact," said the first bell-topperer, "All we say is, Hand
over the Puddin' with a few well-chosen words, and all ill-feeling
will be dropped."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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