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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=507797" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Song of the Squatter</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Commissioner bet me a pony—I won, <br>So he cut off exactly two-thirds of my run; <br>For he said I was making a fortune too fast, <br>And profit gained slower the longer would last. <br> <br>He remarked, as devouring my mutton he sat, <br>That I suffered my sheep to grow sadly too fat; <br>That they wasted waste land, did prerogative brown, <br>And rebelliously nibbled the droits of the Crown; <br> <br>That the creek that divided my station in two <br>Showed that Nature designed that two fees should be due. <br>Mr. Riddle assured me’t was paid but for show, <br>But he kept it and spent it, that ’s all that I know. <br> <br>The commissioner fined me because I forgot <br>To return an old ewe that was ill of the rot, <br>And a poor wry-necked lamb that we kept for a pet; <br>And he said it was treason such things to forget. <br> <br>The commissioner pounded my cattle because <br>They had mumbled the scrub with their famishing jaws <br>On the part of the run he had taken away, <br>And he sold them by auction the costs to defray. <br> <br>The border police they were out all the day <br>To look for some thieves who had ransacked my dray; <br>But the thieves they continued in quiet and peace, <br>For they ’d robbed it themselves, had the border police! <br> <br>When the white thieves had left me the black thieves appeared, <br>My shepherds they waddied, my cattle they speared; <br>But from fear of my license I said not a word, <br>For I knew it was gone if the Government heard. <br> <br>The commissioner’s bosom with anger was filled <br>Against me because my poor shepherd was killed; <br>So he straight took away the last third of my run, <br>And got it transferred to the name of his son. <br> <br>The son had from Cambridge been lately expelled, <br>And his license for preaching most justly withheld! <br>But this is no cause, the commissioner says, <br>Why he should not be fit for my license to graze. <br> <br>The cattle, that had not been sold at the pound, <br>He took with the run at five shillings all round, <br>And the sheep the blacks left me at sixpence a head,— <br>A very good price, the commissioner said. <br> <br>The Governor told me I justly was served, <br>That commissioners never from duty had swerved; <br>But that if I’d a fancy for any more land <br>For one pound an acre he ’d plenty on hand. <br> <br>I ’m not very proud! I can dig in a bog, <br>Feed pigs, or for firewood can split up a log, <br>Clean shoes, riddle cinders, or help to boil down— <br>Anything that you please, but graze lands of the Crown!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Lowe+Sherbrooke">Robert Lowe Sherbrooke</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=507797" data-title="Song of the Squatter de Robert Lowe Sherbrooke" data-description="The Commissioner bet me a pony—I won, 
So he cut off exactly two-thirds of my run; 
For he said I was making a fortune too fast, 
And profit gained slower the longer would last. 
 
He remarked, as devouring my mutton he sat, 
That I suffered my ..."></div>
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