The Ballad Of That P.N.

A poem by Andrew Barton Paterson

The shades of night had fallen at last,
When through the house a shadow passed,
That once had been the Genial Dan,
But now become a desperate man,
At question time he waited near,
And on the Premier's startled ear
A voice fell like half a brick,
"Did ye, or did ye not, pay Crick
Did ye?"

By land and sea the Premier sped,
But found his foe where'er he fled,
The sailors swore, with whitened lip,
That Neptune swam behind the ship:
When to the stern the Premier ran,
Behold, 'twas no one else but Dan,
And through the roaring of the gale
That clarion voice took up the tale,
"Ahot there! Answer, straight and slick!
Did not the Ministry pay Crick
Did they?"

In railway trains he sought retreat,
But soon, from underneath the seat,
With blazing eye and bristling beard,
His ancient enemy appeared,
And like a boiling torrent ran
The accents of the angry Dan,
"Tell me, John See, and tell me quick
Did not ye pay your shares to Crick
Did ye?"

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