Jimmy Jones
p. 34 · Read in the full issue
TJIS weight was only nine stone eight, His years three score and ten, But I’ve seen him humiliate And clean up bigger men.
He’d swing a right and left with vim.
And use them as his bowers.
In early days he ran a gym., Way up on Charters Towers.
He managed many a mining show, And paid good divvies, too; But used to let the money gO' — The same as me and you.
When, later on, he’d work and slave Dame Fortune struck him low.
No matter how he’d try to save You’d see his savings go.
Like some old battler in a ring, When belted stiff and sore, Would from his corner bravely spring, And stagger in for more, He’d always hold his head on high No matter how he felt.
Misfortune now has struck him sly.
And well below the belt.
He knows of many a quiet spot Where useful gold may lie; He should not have toi get a lot — The price of gold’s so high.
And he has only got to catch Dame Fortune feeling gay— Then what about that little patch Up Charters Towers way!
And ’way up on Tiveri streams Where native sago grows— I’m very sure he often dreams Of other spots he knows.
Although he’s now not very strong And getting worn and old, I know that he, again ere long, Will be off, chasing gold.
To Jimmy: Wherever you may travel, I sincerely hope you will Be always on pay gravel And your “shammy” quickly fill!
May all your quests be lucky, You tough old bag of bones!
Always straight and plucky— Here’s to you, Jimmy Jones!
Papua.