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Project Gutenberg Australia HomeReturn to Index of Poems
‘Fore the red glowing coals like a small bush class,
Sit the children in the hut by the river,
With the fire-shovel laid on the hot crushed mass,
And the toasting corn upon it all a-quiver.
When the grains fly and pop,
When they swell, burst and hop,
Little hands are stretched to grab, quick and clever,
And the old farmer says: “Mush-o, lad; mush, lass!”
When the bleak winter winds with a wild rush pass
Round the gables of the hut by the river;
When the hoar frost around settles on the lush grass,
And the ‘possums in the wet trees shiver;
Then the corn ‘gins to pop,
Then the grains skip and hop,
While the young mouths, agape, wait the giver,
And the old farmer says: “Mush-o, lad; mush lass!”
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