Kangaroo. "It hasn't got any voice to speak of, and the tune is stupid.
It gives me the jim-jams, for it reminds me I've lost my baby Kangaroo.
There is something wrong about some birds that think themselves musical,"
she continued: "they are well behaved and considerate enough in the day,
but as soon as it is a nice, quiet, calm night, or a bit of a moon is in
the sky, they make night hideous to everyone within ear-shot--'Mo-poke!
mo-poke!' Oh! it gives me the blues!"

As the Kangaroo spoke she hopped to the front of the cave.

"I say, Nightjar," she said, "I'm a little sad to-night, please go and
sing elsewhere."

"Ah!" said the Nightjar, "I'm so glad I've given you deliciously dismal
thoughts with my song! I'm a great artist, and can touch all hearts.
That is my mission in the world: when all the bush is quiet, and everyone
has time to be miserable, I make them more so--isn't it lovely to be like
that?"

"I'd rather you sang something cheerful," said the Kangaroo to herself,
but out loud she said, "I find it really too beautiful, it is more than I
can bear. Please go a little further off."

"Mo-poke! mo-poke!!" croaked the Nightjar, further and further in the
distance, as it flew away.

"What a pity!" said the Kangaroo, as she returned to the cave, "the
Possum made that unlucky joke of telling the Nightjar it has a touching
voice, and can sing: everyone has to suffer for that joke of the Possum's.
It doesn't matter to him, for he is awake all night, but it is too bad for