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 But though the boldest horseman who by midnight or by day E’er held a mob of cattle on a camp, There were squatters on Monaro who had yet been known to say That Jack was an unmitigated scamp. And true it is Jack Corrigan possessed a serious fault Which caused his gentle, blue-eyed wife much grief, And many were the bitter tears she mingled with the salt With which she cured their neighbours’ tend’rest beef. And often would she tearful take her smiling spouse to task— Who’d answer, as her pretty face he kissed, That a beast lost all identity when pickled in the cask, And a bullock more or less would ne’er be missed.

But now as Jack stood all prepared to toss his nobbler down, A softly-murmured whisper met his ear: ‘I just saw Trooper Fraser get a warrant up the town: He’s after you, old man: you’d better clear!’ Jack never thanked the donor of this excellent advice, As the glass fell through his fingers with a crash: With a bound across the footpath, he was mounted in a trice And speeding down the roadway like a flash, While Trooper William Fraser wore a very gloomy face, As he watched his prey go flying down the road;