Page:The moods of Ginger Mick.djvu/100

 92 'E sort o' takes it personal, yeh see. 'E used to 'awk 'em fer a crust, did Mick. Now, makin' 'im play rabbits seems to be A narsty trick. To shove 'im like a bunny down a 'ole It looks like chuckin' orf, an' sours 'is soul.

"Fair doos," 'e sez. "I joined the bloomin' ranks To git away frum rabbits: thinks I'm done Wiv them Australian pests, an' 'ere's their thanks: They makes me one! An' 'ere I'm squattin', scared to shift about; Jist waitin' fer me little tail to sprout.

"Ar, strike me up a wattle! but it's tough! But 'ere's the dizzy limit, fer a cert— To live this bunny's life is bad enough. But 'ere's reel dirt: Some tart at 'ome 'as sent, wiv lovin' care, A coat uv rabbit-skins fer me to wear!

"That's done it! Now I'm nibblin' at me food, An' if a dawg shows up I'll start to squeal. I s'pose I orter melt wiv gratichude: 'Tain't 'ow I feel. She might 'a' fixed a note on wiv a pin: 'Please, Mister Rabbit, yeh fergot yer skin!'