'It's worse than being chased by natives on the Limpopo River,' said Sam.
'It's worse than fighting Arabs single-handed,' croaked Bill.
'It's almost as bad as being pecked on the head by eagles,' said Sam, and in despair they sang in muffled tones—
'O what a fearful fate it is,
O what a frightful fag,
To have to walk about like this
All tied up in a bag.
'Our noble confidence has sent
Us on this fearful jag;
In noble confidence we bent
To look inside this bag.
'Deprived of air, in dark despair
Upon our way we drag;
Condemned for evermore to wear
This frightful, fearsome bag.'
Bunyip Bluegum reproved this faint-heartedness, saying, 'As our misfortunes are due to exhibiting too great a trust in scoundrels, so let us bear them with the greater fortitude. As in innocence we fell, so let our conduct in this hour of dire extremity be guided by the courageous endurance of men whose consciences are free from guilt.'
