THE BUTTER.
THE SUFFERINGS OF SYDNEY. Who’s got the butter? Not 1, said the cook; You’d better come and look. My pantry is as bare As the site of master’s hair; ’Tis desolation utter. 1 haven’t got the butter.
Who’s got the butter? Not, J said the shopkeeper; My sorrow’s growing deeper. People come here to pay And have to go away. My wrath I cannot stutter; 1 haven’t got the butter.
Who’s got the butter? Not I, said the Cold Store; Here’s room for plenty more. Butter would be so nice Congealed amid this ice. At me you should not mutter; 1 haven’t got the butter.
Who’s got the butter? Not 1, said the railway train. In my journey across the plain I take six weeks or so To Sydney town to go. But in my present flutter 1 haven't got the butter.
Who’s got the butter? Not i, said the factory plant. However you may rant, However you may sneer, 'Tim butter isn’t here. Don’t, peep behind my, shutter; I haven’t got the butter.
Who’s got the butter? Not I, said the farming man; My cream goes in a can To the factory twice a'week, So don’t come here to seek. Don’t pry iu that chaffcutter; 1 haven’t got the butter.
Who’s got the butter? Nobody seems to know, So on dry broad we go; The breakfast that we boast Is gravy on our toast. Our plate looks like a gutter. Who’s got the butter? —Sydney Sun
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/STEP19150712.2.48
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Stratford Evening Post, Volume XXVII, Issue 61, 12 July 1915, Page 7
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249THE BUTTER. Stratford Evening Post, Volume XXVII, Issue 61, 12 July 1915, Page 7
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