They wore always skulkin’ round my hut, Just to see what they could get ; But when I faced ‘em, the beggars cut - They hadn’t much pluck, you bet. One night I was smokin’ just outside, When my dog began to bark, And about a dozen spears were shied, As I stood there in the dark. One split my cheek open to my gum, And I’d only time to shut The door, when a mob of blacks they come With a rush right at the hut ? I whipp’d down my gun, and through a crack In the wall, I just let drive Into the blacks, and they bolted back - Well, that’s them as were alive. For one or two of the beggars fell Along of that dose of shot : Twas enough to make you sweat, the yell They gave as they went to pot. I hadn’t so long to tie up my face, When the blacks came back once more In a howling crowd, all round the place, And tried to smash in the door. I let ‘em have it - this time with slugs - And the way them blacks did yell When they got ‘em in their painted mugs Must have scaredup Nick in Hell.