BOOBIE-TOWN AND ITS KING. 375 



Let the lovers who secretly simper and sigh, 

 And droop at the sight of a blue or black eye, 

 Brush up to them boldly, and try 'em again, 

 For women love sportsmen, as sportsmen love them. 

 And should you be hless'd with a termagant wife, 

 Who, instead of the joy, is the plague of your life ; 

 "When madam her small-shot begins to let go. 

 Why di'aw on your boots, and away, tally-ho ! 

 Tally-ho! Tally-ho! 



And you, ye old codgers, whose nerves are unstrung, 

 Come follow the hounds and you'll hunt yourself young ; 

 'Twill cure the short cough and the rheumatic pain ; 

 Do but cry Tally-ho ! and you're all young again. 

 If Death, that old poacher, to smuggle you strives. 

 Get astride on your saddle and ride for your lives ; 

 Ne'er heed his grim looks, if your gelding can go. 

 You cannot be caught if you cry tally-ho : 



Tally-ho ! Tally-ho ! 



The next day Reade and I walked out through 

 the woods to Boobie-town, about three miles dis- 

 tance from Clarence, and visited the Boobie king, 

 who received us in African grande tenue — a cocked 

 hat, and swallow-tailed blue coat, without inex- 

 pressibles. After standing a calabash full of palm 

 wine, he ordered his women to dance for our 

 amusement, but their performance was simply dis- 



