Tah, rah! We don't go home--
Oom, pah! We won't go home--
Oh, we shan't go home, and we can't go home when the band begins to play.
Oh, see them swinging along, swinging along the street!
Left, right! buttons so bright, jackets and caps so neat.
Ho, the Fire Brigade, or a dress parade of the Soldier-men is grand;
But everyone, for regular fun, wants a Big-Brass-Band.
The slide-trombone is a joy alone, and the drummer! He's a treat!
So, Rackety-rumph! We don't go home--
Boom, Bumph! We won't go home--
Oh, we shan't go home, and we can't go home while the band is in the street.
Tooral-ooral, Oom-pah!
The band is in the street!
BESSIE AND THE BUNYIP
Bessie met a bunyip down along the track,
In his hand a billy and a swag upon his back.
And you will hardly believe it, but when Bessie shouted,"Shoo!"
He turned a double somersault and went quite blue.
GOOD ENOUGH
I do not think there ever was,
Or ever will, or ever could be,
A little girl or little boy
As good as she or as he should be.
But still, I think, you will agree,
Though perfect very, very few are,
They're not so bad when "pretty good"--
That's just about as good as you are.
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