In fact as Sam said:—
The howls and groans of pain and grief,
The accents of remorse,
Extracted from a puddin'-thief
Are all put on, of course."
"Then, all I can say is," cried Bill, enraged, "if there's any more of this business of puddin'-thieves, disguised as firemen, stealing our Puddin', and puddin'-thieves, not disguised at all, shovin' bags over our heads, blow me if I don't give up Puddin'-owning in despair and take to keepin' carrots for a livin'."
The Puddin' was so furious at this remark that they were forced to eat an extra slice all round to pacify him, in spite of which he called Bill a turnip-headed old carrot-cruncher, and other insulting names. However, at length they set out on the road, Bill continuing to air some very despondent remarks.
"For what is the good of havin' a noble trustin' nature," said he, "for every low puddin'-thief in the land to take advantage of? As far as I can see, the only thing to do is to punch every snout we meet, and chance the odds it belongs to a puddin'-thief."
"Come," said Bunyip Bluegum, "I see you are not your wonted, good-humoured self this morning. As a means of promoting the general gaiety, I call on you to sing "The Salt Junk Sarah" without delay."
This was immediately effective, and Bill with the greatest heartiness roared out:
"Ho, aboard the Salt Junk Sarah
Rollin' round the ocean wide,
The bo'sun's mate, I grieve to state,
He kissed the bo'sun's bride.
Rollin' home, rollin' home,
Home across the foam;
The bo'sun rose and punched his nose
And banged him on the dome."
At about the fifteenth verse they came to the town of Tooraloo, and that put a stop to the singing, because you can't sing in the public streets unless you are a musician or a nuisance. The town of Tooraloo is one of those dozing, snoozing, sausage-shaped places where all the people who aren't asleep are only half awake, and where dogs pass away their lives on the footpaths, and you fall over cows when taking your evening stroll.