He had no ear for music either.

His want of appreciation of melody often made the home miserable when it might have been the merriest on earth.

Sometimes it happened that he had to throw down the plough-reins for half-an-hour or so to run round the wheat-paddock after a horse or an old cow; then, if he found Dave, or Sal, or any of us, sitting inside playing the concertina when he came to get a drink, he would nearly go mad.
"Can't y' find anything better t' do than everlastingly playing at that damn thing ?" he would shout.

And if we did n't put the instrument down immediately he would tear it from our hands and pitch it outside.

If we DID lay it down quietly he would snatch it up and heave it out just as hard.