Let weak despair be drowned,
Let vengeance in its rage declare
Our Puddin' must be found.

"Our Puddin' in some darksome lair
In iron chains is bound,
While puddin'-snatchers on him fare,
And eat him by the pound.

"Then let's resolve to do and dare.
Let teeth with rage be ground.
Let voices to the heavens declare
Our Puddin' MUST be found."

"Bravely spoken," said Bill, immediately recovering from despair.
"Those gallant words have fired our blood," said Sam, and they
both shook hands with Bunyip, to show that they were now prepared
to follow the call of vengeance.

In order to investigate this dastardly outrage," said Bunyip,
"we must become detectives, and find a clue. We must find
somebody who has seen a singed possum. Once traced to their
lair, mother-wit will suggest some means of rescuing our Puddin'."

They set off at once, and, after a brisk walk, came to a small
house with a signboard on it saying, "Henderson Hedgehog,
Horticulturist." Henderson himself was in the garden, horticulturing
a cabbage, and they asked him if he had chanced to see a singed
possum that morning. "What's that? What, what?" said Henderson
Hedgehog, and when they had repeated the question, he said, " You