Tall Timber

That sort o' reminds me of ole days (said Bill)In the bush at Toolangi, at Switherton's mill —A sor-mill, you know — an' the sawyer we 'adWas ole 'Oppy McClintock, a wooden-legged lad.'E was walkin' one day for to tighten a peg,When a tiger snake grabs at 'is ole timber leg;An' there it 'angs on, till I fetched it a crack,But ole 'Oppy jist grins as 'e starts to walk back.

An' then, somethink 'appens. We seen 'Oppy stop,As 'e stumbles a bit, an' looks down at 'is propWith a dead funny look. Then 'e lets out a yell:"'Ere, boys! Take it off me! it's startin' to swell!"Well, we unstraps 'is leg, an' it swole an' it swole.Snake pisen? Too right! 'Twas a twenty-foot poleIn less than five minutes! Believe me or not.An' as thick — It's as true as I stand on this spot!

We was 'eavin it out, when the boss starts to roar:"'Ere? Why waste good wood? Shove it on to the sor!"So we sors it in two, down the middle, an' then,Them there slabs swole an' swole; so we sors 'em agen.An' we sors, an' we sors; an' it swole, an' it swoleTill the end of the day, when the tally, all tole,Was two thousan' foot super. You doubt it? (said Bill)You ask any ole 'and up at Switherton's mill!