THE MUKHTAR’S GOATS
Said Breezy Bob to Baldy Bill, “I’m giving you the oil;
There’s whips of blinking eatables on this ’ere virgin soil.
So what abart a forage hunt, me bold and noble chief?
It’s time we had some mutton now instead of bully-beef.”
Now, Baldy Bill was leader of an enterprising mess;
His cobbers all would back him up in deeds of wickedness.
So when Old Bob suggested that the gang should have a hunt
For tasty chops and cutlets, they agreed upon the stunt.
It happened that the n’th Light Horse were camping in a grove
Of olives, figs and oranges, the hedges interwove
With prickly pear grown very thick, and on the other side
The grazing land by cattle, sheep and goats was occupied.
An Arab Chief, or Mukhtar, was the owner of the flock,
Named “Abdul el Mahomed,” a monopolist in stock.
Now Baldy Bill and Breezy Bob were socialistic coves
Who spouted on equality amongst the olive groves.
And so in tones of ecstasy the plot was duly laid,
And in the hedge of prickly pear a hole was quickly made.
Then Bob and Baldy sallied forth—a ration bag of oats
Was carried by the doughty pair to snare the Mukhtar’s goats.
They crawled along in silence, seeking shade from tree to tree,
Until they came upon the flock all feeding peacefully.
The Mukhtar, squatting in the shade, engaged in silent thought,
Was dreaming of the prosperous times the “awful war” had brought.
Now, Baldy in the ration bag had made a little spout,
And as they crawled along the grass the oats were trickling out;
But as they neared the Mukhtar’s flock they rose upon their feet,
Salaamed in true Australian style, the pastoralist to greet.
In friendly pidgin-Arabic they talked a little while,
Then bade farewell to Abdul in the dinkum Aussie style;
And as they sauntered back to camp they noticed with a grin,
That Abdul’s goats had found the oats, and all were “wiring in.”
The feeding flock came slowly towards the hedge of prickly pear.
A fine big “billy” led the lot, quite eager for his share,
And as he wandered close enough the prickly pear to feel,
He “got it” quickly in the neck—a blade of polished steel.
Then Bill and Breezy dragged their prize into the Squadron’s lines,
Cut up the mass of quivering flesh in various designs.
With plenty swords available they soon got off the hide;
In less time than it takes to tell the billy-goat was fried.
That night the stew was “counted out” and mutton reigned instead,
And when old Abdul “counted in” his flock he hit his head
In anger, for he came upon the remnants of the oats
That Breezy Bob distributed to snare the Mukhtar’s goats.
Since then the Military Police are looking for a clue;
They never made enquiries about discarded stew,
Or else they might have found the truth; and Bill and Breezy gloat,
To tell the yarn in secrecy about the Mukhtar’s goat.
“2469”
BUYING ORANGES, JAFFA
By W. O. David Barker
