The Sundowner's Sacrifice

OLD Jacky gazed on the setting sun
As he stood by his garden gate,
When to him appeared a “regular”one
Of the sect called the Swag Estate.

"Chance of a job?” ’Twas the fixed address,
And it glibly slipped his jaws,
As a parson’s patter is void of stress,
And told, too, for the self-same cause.

An idea lit up the humorist’s brow
Of a fine retributive plan
And he answered, “Well, I want just now
A really active man.

“Can you run? Would you mind running round the shed?
You can mess with the men tonight.”
The thought of a feed of yeasty bread
Made the whaler’s heart as light.

He dropped his “hump” and he hitched his trews
And took up a hole in his belt;
A stomach ill-used braced up his thews,
His soul two square feeds smelt.

At something like a “Botany" pace
He covered the track set out,
Great tears of sweat ran down his face –
He was winded, just about.

As the woolly joker again he faced, 
plying a dirty “wipe”,
A smile that gentleman’s visage graced 
Suspiciously rich and ripe.