'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.
There was a surprise awaiting them at Tooraloo, for the moment they arrived two persons in bell-toppers and long-tailed coats ran out from behind a fence and fell flat on their backs in the middle of the road, yelling 'Help, help! thieves and ruffians are at work!'
The travellers naturally stared with amazement at this peculiar conduct. The moment the persons in bell-toppers caught sight of them they sprang up, and striking an attitude expressive of horror, shouted:
'Behold the puddin'-thieves!'
'Behold the what?' exclaimed Bill.
'Puddin'-thieves,' said one of the bell-topperers. 'For well you know that that dear Puddin' in your hand has been stolen from its parents and guardians, which is ourselves.' And the other bell-topperer added, 'Deny it not, for with that dear Puddin' in your hand your guilt is manifest.'
'Well, if this ain't enough to dumbfound a codfish,' exclaimed Bill. 'Here's two total strangers, disguised as undertakers, actually accusin' us of stealin' our own Puddin'. Why, it's outside the bounds of comprehension!'