O, calm and clear the liar lies
Who writes reports on mines;
Behold what knowledge deep and wise
His legend intertwines.
But ah, if he should own the lease
Supposed to hold the lode

Behold his lying pow'rs increase
Observe his matchless mode.
He may not have an ounce of quartz,
The reef his lease might miss,
But in his Rougemont-like reports
THE
REEF
RUNS
DOWN
LIKE
THIS.
But if perchance the reef is found
And proven rich and wide,
Within another party's ground
Who pegged him side by side,
He can't peg in upon the end,
That's taken long ago.
And if the lode-line doesn't bend
He hasn't Buckley's show;
But shifting reefs is labor light,
And perfect is his bliss,
So as his lease is on the right
It under lies like this.
But should his lease located be
Upon the left-hand side,
The reef in which the gold shows free
Towards the left he'll guide.
For that which baulks a modest man
A mining scribe can do.
And alterations on a plan
Will swing a reef askew;
So once again with pencil deft
He plumbs the earth's abyss
And as his lease is on the left
The reef runs down like this.
But if he has no part or share
Around the golden ground,
A tinker's toss he doesn't care

If any reef is found.
He cares not if it goes an ounce
Or only goes a grain,
But if the owners try to bounce
They're soon amongst the slain.
He slays them as a mad Malay,
Slays foemen with a kris,
And in the mining news next days