A New Zealander's fancies in verse

Pope, Robert J. (Robert James), Whitcombe & Tombs, Christchurch, N.Z., 1945

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The original publication details are as follows:

Title: A New Zealander's fancies in verse

Author: Pope, Robert J. (Robert James)

Published: Whitcombe & Tombs, Christchurch, N.Z., 1945

A NEW ZEALANDER’S

Fancies in Verse

SOME ARE PENSIVE,

OTHERS, GAY ;

MORE, WITH A TWINKLE,

LIGHT THE WAY.

by Robert J. Pope

printed for the author by

"HITCOMBE Sc TOMBS LIMITED

- *_■ i i'ii x r,LJ CHRISTCHURCH, AUCKLAND, WFXLINCTON,

LOWER HUTT, DUNEDIN, INVERCARGILL, N.Z.,

MELBOURNE, SYDNEY, PERTH, AUST.,

LONDON

CONTENTS

No. p age

1 The Little Ships 7

2 Beyond the Veil 8

3 Life’s Pinpricks 9

4 Spring 10

5 Wanted a Leader 11

6 Christmas Time 12

7 The Afternoon Caller's Good-bye 13

8 Waiting 14

9 The Househunter 15

10 There Are Roses in My Garden 15

11 Billy’s Tea 16

12 A Nazi Prayer 17

13 The Trial 17

14 The Spring Clean 18

15 Bill Bunting 20

16 Dick Seddon 21

17 A Bird in the Ice 22

18 Maoriland 23

19 The Pleasing Politician 24

20 Fight On! 25

21 A Modern "Little List" 26

22 The Tui 27

23 Time 28

24 A Hun’s a Hun for A’ That 29

25 Little Blue Eyes 30

No. page

26 Motor Kills 31

27 Wellington College Song 32

28 Another Little List 33

29 Adam and Eve 34

30 King Willow 35

31 The Doorkeeper’s Retort to Hitler 36

32 The Choice 37

33 “The Boss" 38

34 Fly-time 39

35 Nursery Rhymes Up-to-Date 40

36 The Stricken Advertiser 41

37 The British Navy 42

38 The Union Jack 43

19 New-Zealand 44

40 Sunshine and Shadow 45

41 Our Ancestors’ Career 46

42 Spring 47

43 The Drilling Dominic 48

44 Educational Reform 50

45 Joys of the Car Owner 51

46 A Protest 59

47 Our Beer 53

48 Not On Side 54

49 Makin’ a Raypublic 55

50 In Memoriam 56

TO MV DAUGHTER. EILEEN

PREFACE

A MOOT POIN I

THOUGH CERTES, MANY PERSONS DUB ME ‘ POET

I’m a versifier only—and I know it.

ASKS ONE : “ WHAT PURPOSE CAN A FURTHER EFFORT SERVE ? ”

PURPOSE," INDEED ! MINE, TOO, THE MYST’RY poets GUARD,—

BUT HOLD !

UUI MULLI . I DARE NOT * BLOW IT.’

This is the second of two volumes of verse that I have published. In t ic first volume I had to lie very circumspect, for various sound reasons; in this one no such restrictions hampered me; 1 was perfectly free, but,’ I trust, not too free. This second volume represents, approximately, thiee stages of my eflorts in verse. These stages may be slated thus :

I. My early writings in the New Zealand Free Lance.

2. Contributions to various other publications, chiefly the Xew Zealand School Journal: and the Free Lance again, during the First World War period.

share of contributions—and that a pretty large one-to the U elhngton Evening Post's " Postscripts ” column, forms the bulk of the third stage ol my work, and is contemporaneous with the present great World-conflict still going strong; but now' showing signs of coming to an end: and that end the one which we and all our Allies have so long lought lor, unflinchingly and determinedly, with stout hopes and inflexible resolution.

In this book the allocation of my various contributions docs not always adhere to the order herein specified, nor generally is the name of the publication stated, in which a particular item originally appeared. I he limits of space and funds available, have prevented that being done.

It is to be hoped that the merits of the pieces here chosen as being worthy of the dignity of book-appearance, will justify the opinion of their author who. with the subscribers’ kind help, is giving the selected Pieces this opportunity of making a dignified public appearance.

Lastly. I have to thank very sincerely a small group of firm friends. Messrs. \V. H. Olson. W. H. Denton. T. A. Fletcher, and last, but very far from least, E. N. Morris and his daughters. Miss Lilian Morris and Mrs. G. E. Moller, all of whom have, in various ways and on different occasions, removed from the path of my advanced age. obstacles which sometimes threatened, at this difficult period of life, to make the publication of this book an impossibility.

Robert J. Pope

1945

THE LITTLE SHIPS

The little ships, the gallant ships,

That served our fathers’ day,

And stretched die Empire’s bounds afar

And held her toes at bay—

The little ships, the sturdy ships,

Our fathers’ boast and pride— LI I I .1 • .

Have had their sailing orders,—weighed,

And gone out on the tide

The little ships, the daring ships,

That braved unchartered seas—

The ships of Tasman, Cook, and Ross,

And hearts as bold as these—

Say, where are now those little ships,

So fearless, staunch, and true ?

Gone-yet they left a wake of fame

More lasting than they knew.

No little ships, no tail-sparred ships, .. 11 .. _r , 1

(The swallows of the sea),

From China now come racing home,

Their holds ajam with tea;

Nor now- from far-famed Sydney's port

With cloud of canvas spread.

Come little wool-ships speeding home :

The little ships are dead.

Those graceful ships, those valiant ships All 1 i i

All hazards laughed to scorn.

Defied the " Roaring Forties’ ” rage,

And battled round the Horn;

Those silent ships, those dauntless ships.

Of wind and wave the sport,

In spite of gale, of hurricane, TVi I i ,

Triumphantly made port.

Ye little ships, ye faithful ships,

To you how much we owe.

Who with our fathers nobly served

New Zealand long ago;

I.ike theirs, your task was stern anti long.

But ere your course was run

Vou saw an infant nation rise—

Our heritage was won.

7

Ah ! little ships, the tide of Time

Has borne you all away;

Your beauty and your stately grace

Arc now of yesterday.

Grieve not that you tire laid aside,

Your sails for ever furled.

For fame undying doth reward

Your service to the World

BEYOND THE VEIL

When I am gone beyond the veil.

And earth and all it holds a dream,

Perchance some flower these hands have idly set.

May bloom, and past neglect redeem.

A pebble flung into the pond

Sinks straightway, and is seen no more;

The wavelet, born of that unpurposed plunge.

, ■ II I IgL , May bear some pregnant seed to shore.

In like, a word of sympathy,

A kindly deed, long since forgot,

' ’ O May in obscure, inexplicable way,

Survive, and lighten some dark lot.

When we invoke the aid of Fame

To help us circumvent Death’s plot.

’Tis but a barren victory we gain :

The name endures—the man’s forgot.

No lettered stone need mark my rest;

• OCCU IV 11 I > 1 V_.sl t No useless railing guard the spot:

Oblivion is our sure and destined end •

Man cannot ravel* Fate's firm knot.

Yet one memorial 1 crave

Though transient; when I've played my part,

He it alone my monument, to leave

A name enshrined in one true heart.

* Ravel :In lliis sense, untwist; more often with out. To ravel out a knot.

8

LIFE’S PINPRICKS

It’s not the great misfortunes

That man meets on his way.

Which tend to break his spirit.

And fill him with dismay;

Its the niggling little pinpricks

That follow him like flies,

And never cease to buzz and tease

Until Death seals his eyes.

To-day it is his collar stud

That’s left him in the lurch,

Maybe just at the moment when

He’s bustling off to church-

Tomorrow, it s his bootlace snaps

While tearing for his tram,

What, think you, are the words he’d use?—

Nay ! Far too gentle, ma’am !

The language of that harried soul

O fc» v ' “““ iiamtu »UUI AH high-powered, terse, and solemn.

Would shock the moral instincts

Of the readers of this column;* \ rtd Imi n I,

A column whose h;gh purpose i«

Fo raise the civic tone*

So, solemnly, it bids you : “ Leave

Profanity alone

And woman, too, is not immune

from frets that may bring tears;

She s lost her glasses, day by day.

For five-and-twenty years.

Bags, handkerchiefs and gloves arc things

Demanding endless care; \f Ido it t 1i01,,.

iVlislay them for one momeni Sr, A .1— . ■

And—they vanish into air

It is indeed a trying thing

To be a human being;

For life is full of gins and snares Tk » i

O*** 4 ' oiiaicj There s no chance of foreseeing; 11 Ilf c/\m /m.- ..<lll _ I* •

But somehow, still we cling to it I • . . 7.

And bear its burdens dire;

Though here we’re in the frying-pan,

Were not yet in the fire.

Postscripts in the Wellington Evening Post.

9

4

SPRING

'v ? a ‘ i. hiS SeaSO '* of lhe > ear that countryside appears at its very hmenm T K n " rCC " m:,ntle ovcr 1,111 :, nd 'al'cv and liidden the baieness of winter. Jhe flowers with their delightful colours and graceful HrllTe f ,nCC mo sf, x d ° rn bolh P lant and tree, and the air is laden with their th perfumes. All Nature seems glad thai chilly winter has passed away. This though, ,s expressed in lhe following verses by Mr. K. ). Pope, a retired New .calami schoolmaster. In them he paints a typical New /calami landscape in Spting, with the trees and fields wearing their new green robes, while the forests are gay with the songs of our native birds.)

(Note by the editor of the New Zealand School Journal, in which the poem first appeared.)

Who comes smiling through the greenwood.

Garlanded with vernal flowers,

Where the blackbird loves to whistle

In the sunlit morning hours?

Bud and blossom at her advent

Cease from Winter's shafts to hide;

And for chestnut, beech, and willow

Dainty emerald robes provide.

See her through the meadows tripping !

Lambs around her skip and play ;

i p Daisies wond’ringly behold her,

As she passes on her way.

Who but Spring, the fair enchantress.

Could such winsome guise assume ?

Who but she could mould the snowdrop

Who the violet perfume ?

Faultless handiwork bears witness

She has lingered in the lane;

None but she could paint the foxglove.

Or the honeysuckle train

Now the forest bells* are chiming.

As she wakes the tui’s song:

Now she lures the shining cuckoof

Truant from our woods too long.

15

She beguiles the miser kowhait

All his treasure to display,

_ w vt.jjytajf, Till the robber winds, assailing,

Snatch his hoard of gold away

Here the fruit-trees, blossom-laden.

Stand as though in voiceless pride.

Silent wedding-maids attending

Spring, sweet Spring, the Year's young bride.

Even Age, though bowed and wrinkled ;1. . ’

Racked, it may be. too, with pain, I If f C dl'fv. ... *.

Eilts dim eyes once more to greet her

Whom it ne’er may see again.

But with Youth no shadow lingers*

lingers; Life is gold without alloy

And with Spring for boon companion

All is promise, fervour, jot

•One of the notes of the tui is like chiming bells, in the earh spring' 1 ' °° “ a bird ° f which arrives in New Zealand is a ,ree ***" of spring Winds strip i, of its blossom al^t^S^ y t^t^, fl l^n Violem

5

WANTED A LEADER

Wanted, a leader staunch and true,

With stubborn, microcosmic view;

Not one with vision so warped and wide

As e en to see his opponents’ side; And nAnrlor 1‘ _■ i ■ ,

And ponder with judicial mind

Things obvious to all mankind ...1

Can one whose nature plays such trick;

E er lead in party politics ?

Send us a leader strong and bold.

Who dares to do what he is told;

Whose conscience is his sovereign guide,

Except when party claims o’erride • Ono (Lilln.l i I ■ • ...

One skilled to plumb the public mind

And learn which way his own's inclined;

While with a hold as strong as death.

He grasps each time-worn shibboleth,

J1

17

CHRISTMAS TIME

O. Christmas is the joyous time

(At least it is for some),

When father buys his son and heir

A whistle, train, or drum.

At five a.m. his hopeful wakes.

And to his glad surprise,

That lethal instrument of youth,

A trumpet, he espies.

Then like a rocket up he springs,

His satisfaction deep,

And Gabriel-like, with trumpet blast,

Arouses them that sleep.

And long, and loud, and often,

He makes the welkin ring

While, as by magic, pals appear,

Agog to blow the thing.

Then mother in the kitchen toils,

With pots and pans around

While jars of this, and bags of that,

And boys and girls abound.

“ We are busy helping mother,”

With guileless charm they tell

But frequently, as Fortune smiles,

They help themselves, as well.

With anticipation eager

Of the good time just ahead.

o Jim iiucdU, Young tongues are wagging endlessly,

And no one thinks of bed.

Tlie " hig ones ” of the tribe agre

Old Santa’s powers in scorning

Yet hang their stockings up at night,

And search them in the morning.

But as for me, I feel no joy.

(And that with some excuse) ■

V' iiirtL wu.li vimc excuse;; My point of view is different—quite—

I am the Christmas goose !

12

7

13

THE AFTERNOON CALLER'S GOOD-BYE

oil, gracious me ! Is that the time ?

I'd really no idea;

I he afternoon just simply (lies

Whenever I am here.

Dear. I must run and catch my tram,

Foi George thinks me a sinner If r)w. . I. r •

If on the stroke of six o’clock.

He does not get his dinner

What, Daisy Bell I Well, I declare I

I vc long had my suspicions;

I wonder whether it was fixed k.v i .• ■

On his or her conditions.

At Wilmot’s did you? What’s the width? I • .. i

I cut mine on the cross—

II I were you, I wouldn’t, dear,

I’d trim the front with floss.

hat’s three she has now, is it not ?

Is this a boy or girl ?

Another boy ! She won’t like that-

Oh, yes, I’m fond of “ Earl '.

Now, good-bye, dear; will Tuesday suit, ( W .1, ..II , . „ . . .

Or shall we make it Friday?—

es. Girls for me,” I always say;

Hoys do get so untidv

hor twelve-and-nine ! You don’t mean that !

\\ herever did you get them ?

I think they look just simply sweet—r\u . . 1

Uh, no, you haven’t met them.

What, Charlie Dunn engaged at last !

(Did I bring my umbrella ?)

Vou know I always prophesied

He’d marry Isabella.

Now, good-bye, dear; so nice of you—

1 have enjoyed this chat;

1 didn’t tell you, did I. though.

i d got another hat ? /SI. I I

Oil. goodness me ! I quite forgot

O vjuiis, ‘ I meant to get some ham—

I here s five o'clock I I heard it strike—

Dear me ! I've missed my tram

8

WAITING

The night is dark, the air is still,

And from the grey tower on the hill*

1 he bells ring out. Their mellowed tone

Falls where a woman sits alone.

A wood fire casts its glow around.

Its flickering flame the only sound.

Clear from the bells—her eyes grow dim—

Abide with Me.” his favourite hymn.

A vision floats before her eyes.

1 he years turn back, the dead arise;

She is again his youthful bride,

And he her lover and her pride.

ah ! so soon, the war-drums beat. I • ... . 1 • 1

She sees him marching through the street;

A troopship looms, and then her ears

Ring with the sound of lusty cheers.

A message later, breathing cheer.

Comes but to numb her heart with fear : A „ r i i

“ After long months of heat and sand.

We’re trekking to another- land.”

He must not name that land, but she

itauxv, uiai lauu, UUL Ml Knows now it was Gallipoli;

A land where countless hopes lie slain,

A land where heroes died in vain.

Again the bells—and “Absent ” here

■Steals plaintively upon her ear

■. V two upun IIU Cdl. She lives once more those endless days

Filled with anxiety that preys

I,ike slow disease on heart and brain.

And respite or relief is vain.

Day follows day till months have flown,

And lingering months to years are grown.

Once more the bells— The Minstrel Boy—

It seems to her the knell of joy.

She knows not where her lover fell

’ I is Death’s own secret, guarded wellf.

The bells have ceased, the fire sinks low.

The room grows chill—she does not know;

All hope is gone, her soul seems numb,

She does not weep—tears will not come.

* “ The grey tower on the hill " : Wellington

* *«- 5 1 '-/ uu uic uni wcningion (N.Z.) Carillon.

t The poem may end here if preferred.

14

9

A WARNING TO ALL MY READERS

a careful 'ZT oFfST™% a I“’™ <’ f hi *’ After admiration fo. lx.th the poet aid hil work P< * m “ hlghcst lt,ke,, of

No. 1 Parody

THE HOUSEHUNTER

(Written at a time when a house to rent was unprocurable in Wellington.)

Not a house to let, not a shack or a shed,

1 hough for weeks and months we’d tarried.

Not a soldier discharged but wanted a home

For the girl he had recently married.

No useless coppers we spent on “ ads,"

For futile long since we had found them

But we tramped the streets in a profitless search, I n Tnrl ....,1 ' % .

Up and down, and across, and around them

No part of our heavy task was doi

When the clock struck the hour for retirin'

And we steadfastly made, with our sore aching limh

For the bedroom we pro tern, were hiring.

We thought as we looked at its narrow bed.

And tossed for the lonelv pi I lon

IV/11VIJ piliuw, Ol the landlady’s nerve, for such service as this

j jvi nu, lo charge us full price in the bill, oh 1

Likely they’ll talk in the servants’ domain

u v.. nuw UUIII4UI, And for wanting late breakfast upbraid u.<

—o uuuiaiu us But httle we’ll reck if they let us sleep on

In the crib where exhaustion has laid us

See note preceding \o. 1 Parody.

in

THERE ARE ROSES IN MY GARDEN

There are roses in my garden.

•*‘ v ' m *ll v They are growing everywhere :

They have rambled to the housetop A r . 1

And their perfume fills the air;

There are roses in my garden.

Pink and yellow, white and red:

lint the fairest flower 1 sec there

—i avt uicii Is a little golden head.

15

I here are pansies in my garden,

Both indigo and blue,

Pansies mauve, and white, and saffrot

Of varied shade and hue ■

1 here are pansies in my garden,

And they seem to smile on me;

But most winsome of the smiler

Is a little maid of three

There are songbirds in my garden.

lou may hear them oft at morn ■ *1 ■ , ■

for they sing their rarest melodies lan , ,

When day is newly born :

There are songbirds in my garden ;

But the sweetest note’s unsung, nr; 11 i 1, .1.

Till 1 catch the magic music .. 1;. . 1 „ .

Of a little prattling tongue.

11

BILLY’S TEA

Parody No. 9*

(In the manner of W. B. Yeats)

I will arise and go now, and go get Bill his tea.

And a nice plate of toast make or buy some waffles made. t.m'H 11, .I_ _ r IT ■ ‘ . .

Bloatei paste will I have there, of Heinz or Maconochie

And add a jar of their jam (first grade).

And I shall have some eggs, too, for eggs are getting low.

Dropping to the moderate figure that milder weather brings.

And Bill, with midday dinner, and but a elass or so,

At evening’s keen on these tasty things.

I will arise and see now if Bill is on his way;

(I fear, by low sounds now, the kettle’s slopping on the floor),

While 1 stand in the doorway and scan the pavements »rc\ :

I smell them frying fish next door.

* See note preceding poem No. 9.

16

12

13

Note.— Main persons, some of them Germans, would

perhaps, detect a tinge of irony in the following lines; but

no true Nazi could ever be guilty of so egregious an error

A NAZI PRAYER

O Ehou who, by our Fuhrer’s grace,

I last given to us Earth's foremost place,

Though modesty and silent merit

Disguise the talents we inherit;

Grant us, we pray Thee, further light

To value our great worth aright

And help that darkness to dispel.

In which all other nations dwell.

When granting these petitions, pray

Let there be no undue delay;

And if our Fuhrer shall agree,

We’ll grant some meed of praise to Thee

THE TRIAL

I loved a fair maiden, she was but eighteen

Her eyes were as blue bells, she walked like a queen •

1 loved her so fondly my heart was aflame—

It woidd not be seemly to tell you her name

We uent lor a ramble one fine summer’s eve

She uas sweet and confiding, too fond to deceive;

And when she felt weary (it chanced near a stile)

We sat on a step and there rested a while

I told her I loved her—what else could I do ?

Her lips were so rosy, her eyes were so blue;

I asked : ” Will you wed me ? ” Said she with a smile :

Perhaps I might love you; I'll give you a trial.”

When years wed been wedded, with Fortune our friend

I asked her in jest when my trial would end ;

h> speak of an end ? ” said my saucy young wile

\ou surely must know you were sentenced for life.”

17

23

1 lie Spring (lean was a quasi-religious festival scrupulously observed In women ol the Victorian Era. It was regarded by the men of that period with feelings of mingled awe and annoyance, interfering as it did with their conservative habits. The adeem of the vacuum-cleaner has now almost completely abolished it.

THE SPRING CLEAN

When Spring returns to cheer us

With the flower and busy bee,

And the thrush pours forth its melod' I ,

From many a leafy tree, \,I I -I. *ll r

Man feels no thrill of ecstacy

As he muses on the scene,

For he knows his wife’s intending

To commence the great spring-clean.

Tis a time of trial and suffering

For poor down trodden man ;

A time when broom and scrubbing-brush

....v- ■•wvii i/iwiu aim juuuuin^-uiUMI Are ever in the van ;

No bit of friendly dirt he spies.

And a fellow feels he’s bound

I o loose his shoes from off his feet

For he stands on holy ground.

And if perchance he comes home late

(Men sometimes do at night),

Good generalship compels him

To undress without a light;

So he seeks his couch in darkness.

But decides he’s made a blunder

When he lays him down on nothing

With a crash that sounds like thunder

The water-jug and basin lend

Their aid to swell the clatter

Anti a voice in real alarm cries out.

Oh, Henry, what’s the matter ? ”

And when at length a candle sheds

iv» "mo ill ivilgui < I I <ll HI 1C 311 V Some light upon the wreck,

He wonders how in all the world

He didn’t break his neck.

23

24

for die wardrobe's where the sofa stood,

1 he carpet’s in a heap, I IIP hfirlcfoorl c hivno/j 1 .I _

1 lie bedstead s turned completely round.

And chairs are piled two-deep; T-l 1 , _ t J r . , . ’

I he chest-of-drawers fresh woods lias sought,

1 he towel-horse pastures new

1 ““ " > And ev'ry grim-crack on the wall:

Has emigrated, too.

1 lie washstand has adventured

To some far-off foreign shore;

I he place that used to know it once, i

Will know it now no more;

And all his friendly landmarks

Are scattered, far and wide

And in cursing the remover

He has Scripture on his side.*

Oh, beauteous Spring ! Oh, time of joy !

So fraught with sensuous pleasure

Tin bursting buds and warbling birds.

uai uiuig UI1U! Would gladden hours of leisure ■

.isjuiu giauucu nours ot leisure but man’s no time for thy delights,

No time for birds and buds

His whole attention’s occupied

In dodging brooms and suds.

• Cursed be he who removeth his neighbour’s landmark.

(Dent., Ch. 27, V. 17.)

25

BILL BUNTING

Bill Bunting was a sailor bold

Who round the world did roam.

And never was he more at sea

Than when he was at home.

When he one day from sea returned

(Alas 1 it proved too late).

I he girl he chose as mate in Ann

He found inanimate

I hen on the barque Matilda Jane ,

He shipped as an A.8. ;

But soon an angry sea arose,

And made Bill feel C D.*

I he ship lay off a rocky coast.

And fierce the south winds blew;

The captain bade them heave the lead.

And Bill, unbadc. heaved, too.

And next it was to Suva far

The ship her course did steer;

And there a savage spear gave Bill

A lasting souvenir

Phis savage, a fierce cannibal

.\ot yet convinced of sin.

Perceiving Bill a stranger there.

Resolved to take him in

Bill later loved a maid named Sue

(She, too, untimely died).

And many a day he sighed for Sue,

And oft for suicide.

A widow kept the “ Sailors' Rest,"

And there Bill met his fate;

He logged himself as master, but—

He was the master's mate.

* C.D.—“Sced\ unwell.

20

16

DICK SEDDON

(Air : Tit Willow)

Parodv No. 3*

Explanatory Note :

It will lie remembered that the coronation of Edward the Seventh of England was postponed owing to the Kings sudden attack of appendicitis. Among the Colonial Premiers present at the coronation when it took place, was the Hon. Richard John Seddon. whose strong personality made him a conspicuous figure in any company. In this parody the writer humorously brings out this characteristic.

On a throne in Old England a monarch did sit

Sighing, “ Seddon, Dick Seddon. Dick Seddon ! ”

And 1 said to him, “ Edward, oh, why don’t you quit

Sighing. ‘ Seddon. Dick Seddon, Dick Seddon ? ’

Is it weakness of intellect, Edward ? ” I cried

Or has something gone wrong with your royal inside ? '+

\\ ith a shake of his care-stricken head he replied,

“ It’s Seddon, Dick Seddon, Dick Seddon !

He slapped at his breast as each earl made his bo\

Oh! Seddon, Ah ! Seddon, Great Seddon

And a cold perspiration bespangled his brow;

Fetch Seddon. Dick Seddon. Our Seddon

He sobb d and he sigh’d, and a gurgle he gave.

.And cast his eye down to the end of the nave

1 hen with joy: “I am saved from a suicide’s grave ! ”

There’s Seddon. Dick Seddon. Great Seddon ! ”

*’ I feel just as sure as I’m sure that my name

Isn't Seddon. Dick Seddon. Dick Seddon.

I hat twas lack of his presence which filled me with shame.

Oh. Seddon, Dick Seddon. Dick Seddon !

And if he’d remained callous, and not come inside

“ iunwu.l, ami inn UIMUC, I hey could never have crown’d me. however they'd tried

And uncrown’d I'd have probably reign’d till I died.

Oil. Scddon. Good Seddon. Great Seddon ! ”

* See note preceding No. 1 Parody, t See note above.

21

1 7

A BYRD IN THE ICE

I am Admiral Byrd, a name you have heard

/ “ u iidvc ucara I reclaimed in the Press or the Pictures;

I hve in the spotlight, and find it is not right

To heed commentations* or strictures.

I have founded a town a long, long way down.

In fact, to the South Pole adjacentHllf iho iT.f.,I r. ,

m i ie awful sea fogs, and the clamour-of clops

u i-iciiiiour'oi cic cue ered life very far from complacent;

So I moved to a suburb where I could that rub curb,

And order my life as I pleased,

It is cold, you must know, sometimes sixty below.

But I’m not now distracted and teased

Down here I'm alone and far from the ’phone.

And the multiform claims of society ■ I IIP rmf fit T /-vi ■ . ... ' ’

1 he outfit 1 wear, Oh! ’twould frighten a scarecrow.

But ] care not a rap for propriety.

In my subpolar State one can never be late. Fnr t llnrn’i’ i

or there s nothing down here to be late for No churches nr fnim .

cnurc hes or trains, no meetings in lanes

No appointment that one has a date for When I sa v I ITI T I’ 1

vvnen 1 s; *y lm alone, I mean I’m alone. VlfiTP 'i l/mo IU tv * -

More atone than was Robinson Crusoe; No rrenfnrp liw»c .i.•

trcature lives here at this time of yearI liev nil haw .i- ,

i ney all have more nous than to do so.

Not a cat or a rat, a mouse or a bat

. (I 111VJU5C U1 a oat, A wolf or a bear, a rabbit or hare,

A horse or a donkey, an ape or a monkey, \ rnr-l-ot

A cricket or worm, a maggot or germ.

Not a leaf or a tree, not a moth or a beei

Where the mercury’s miles below zero. Not a flv nr n . i

.no. a ny or a nea, no creature but me :

I m a soloist rivalling Nero.

* The word commentations is copyright, and must no t be used without authority.

22

18

MAORILAND

{N.Z. Free Lance, Feb. 23, 1914)

~™ s is . how ‘he verse entitled Maoriland came to be written. A former inclined °askcd Z husfflo ZV T Pop"td^ ttef « ■»«- SET ,s

propel Sar-bTgf mi.% r ates ~v

AUSTRALIA

(Pattern verse)

I love a sunburnt country,

A land of sweeping plains,

I f} jztaiua Of ragged mountain ranges,

Of droughts and flooding rains;

I love her far horizons.

I love her jewel sea,

Her beauty and her terror,—

The wide, brown-land for me.

Anon

was A enrW,‘| th l the ’ e ‘ , " cst ' ‘ h ' s pattern verse, entitled. Australia. he foil ' ' ep yl ° the ia<l >' s re( l llcsl - '’ope sent her the following verse from Wellington.

maoriland

Beloved Maori land, your charms

I’ve voiced in many a line and strain;

But never have I reached the heights

Your matchless beauty tempts in vain.

A brown-skinned, genial, noble race.

A wealth of fiord, forest, lake :

Of such endearments love was born,

A hold no rival land can break ”

23

I!)

THE PLEASING POLITICIAN

I he politician pleases me,

His ways are wondrous kind;

I han he, who is more ready

To bear your case in mind ?

If he cannot at the moment

For your grievance find a cure,

Well, he'll promise you can count upon

His interest for sure.

And it's more than likely that he'll add

“ If the matter lay with me.

I need hardly tell you, my dear sir

(would be a certainty;

Your claim must be adjusted

With no undue delay-

But I II see the departmental head

And get things under way.”

just then he sees Jones bearing down—

Constituent and bore-

And Jones is just the kind of man

One cannot well ignore

Ah ! Jones, I’m glad to meet you:

But you’ve caught me on the hop

I m just off to a meeting—

So sorry I can’t stop.

But stop he does—and more than once—

Ere the meeting he attends

For he really must see Pompous

And make him some amends

He had promised to be present at

The Stonybroke bazaar,

But had confused the date, and now—

He don’t know where he are.”

“ It isn’t always easy

To decide the course to choose-

For you must ever bear in mind

The votes you stand to lose;—

Address the Ice-cream Conference ?

Or help to plant a tree ?

Well, there you have the problem

That perplexes the M.P.”

24

the politician charms me, u.. ..i ■

He is always on thin ice,

And must act with nice discretion

Or meet trouble in a trice ■ r . i.l

And not seldom at a crisis

He’s beset with deadly fear,

Lest an ill-timed or incautious word

Should ruin his career.

20

FIGHT ON!

“ Are " e downhearted ? ” “No 1 " 1 hear

The Empire’s answering shout.

Though we are set a giant task

V\ r e II brave the issue out-*

uu. 135UC OUI, The foes of Freedom are conjoined

To crush Her by their might

„j mui iiugiiL ; Have we no kinsmen bold enough

-'••ioixiv.ii uuiu cnougn To join us in this fight ? f

Pale Liberty stands trembling bv wk;i a r . ° i

While foemen crowd around.

Must we who love her, bow in shame

And hear her death-knell sound ?

It cannot be—it must not be—

That we consent, dismayed,

To see our heritage destroyed,

And Liberty betrayed.

Fight on we will, with purpose stern,

Nor pause to count the cost;

When Liberty to Force bows down

j ... . uiti. iajss uown Then truly all is lost.

Fight on ! Fight on ! Right must prevail ! Clnr Until it.:. 1 i .

Our duty shines ahead i is

The tyrants shall not reach their goal.

Nor Liberty lie dead.

* When France capitulated, t The allusion is to the C.S.A. whose decision nad not then been made.

25

21

A MODERN "LITTLE LIST."

Parody No. 4 *

I think the time is opportune

To amplify the list

Made by Koko in the “Eighties ”

Of the folk who’d not be missed.

Society offenders non

On all sides so abound.

’Twould be puzzling to determine

Who should NOT be underground.

The man who buys a wireless set

And thinks he’ll give a treat

To all and sundry persons

Residing in his street,

Whose loud-speaker from the window

Sunday nappers puts to rout

Could surely be dispensed with—

1, for one, would “ count him out.” TI,J.. . .1 i . . .

'The lady whose late “ perm wave

Makes her conversation flow

In an overwhelming torrent

Such as suffering husbands know;

And the golfer who is lurking

To inflict his latest round,

Would undoubtedly be valued more

Were he bunkered underground.

And the egoistic mother

Who with irritating tone

Ignores your offsprings’ triumphs,

But magnifies her own;

And the ladies who play bridge all day

And fain would play all night—

To put these on the list, I think,

Is nothing more than right.

There may possibly be bowlers—

Though in this I may be wrong—

Still, I think a few exist, who to

The genus “ bore ” belong;

I’ve overheard some tedious tales

Concerning Jack and Kitty;

And if bowlers were their authors,

Well. I’d list them without pity.

* Sec Hole preceding Poem No. 10.

26

22

The would-be witty raconteur,

Who thinks he shines at dinners,

The ultra-knowing sporting “ fan ”

For ever picking winners.

An offer to these two I make—

I know one can't resist—

I’ll bet them fifteen pounds to one

They never svould be missed.

It really is embarrassing.

With such a boundless choice,

Mong those who se earned interment

One’s preference to voice :

But if with my collection

You should find you can’t agree.

Make a personal selection,

And, pray, head your list with me.

THE TUI

Hark I from the rala's’ crimsoned crown

The tui’s song !—each note a gem

More exquisite than jewel set

In royal diadem.

Sweet songster banished to the wilds,

How rarely now thy note is heard !

Nor thrush nor blackbird fills thy place

In song, melodious bird.

The nightingale in northern dimes.

Reigns queen-like o’er the feather'd throng.

And poets rapturous acclaim

Her peerless, haunting song.

To them the tui’s fluty notes,

Which lead our forest choir at morn,

Are but a mystic, unknown tale,

A symphony unborn.

I have not heard, the nightingale

Sing 'neath the moon her joy and pain,

„ j r But I have heard the tui charm

Our forest after rain ;

And if, sweet singer, there should be

A strain more pure, more rich than thine, >. i

Methinks ’twere some supernal song.

Not earth-born, but divine.

27

23

TIME

O, Time you despoiler!

Time you old thief!

You have stolen my youth.

And life is so brief !

You have filched from me joys,

And left me with cares,

Unsteadied my footsteps.

And brought me grey hairs.

Dear friends you have taken.

And some you’ve estranged ;

The future I’d planned

You’ve sadly deranged ;

Hopes that were brightest

i " o You’ve harshly deferred,

And youth’s golden visions

Are faded and blurred.

Ah ! life is a rayst’ry

That man may not solve;

Its why and its wherefore

He cannot evoh'

Like sere leaves in Autumn

We drift to and fro.

Till we blend with the earth—

No further we know.

Some purpose there must be.

Some Infinite Plan,

Transcending the mind

And the measure of man.

Which we, purblind mortals,

Discern, if at all,

In meteor glimpses

That baffle recall.

It may be then, Time,

Though f hold you no friend

You are guiding my steps

To some destined end;

Though the pathway is steep,

And misfortunes abound.

Though you’re leading me on

Through darkness profound,

When over the mountain.

And night and day blend.

Shall I then know Life’s Purpose

And own you my friend ?

28

24

A HUN’S A HUN FOR A'THAT

Parody No. 5 *

Is it as honoured guest he comes

To share your board and a’that ?

His hearty grup yer haun fair numbs.

He’s wylin’ ye for a’that

For a’that and a’that

He’ll speak ye fair and a’that.

And lo’e ye like a blither Hun,

Yet pick your pooch for a’that.

What tho' he apes the cultured man.

...» s, i.v. me luuuicu man. Wears gloves, irock-coat, and a’that.

hj iiv/vi\ vuni, aim < The club is keekin’ out the tails,

The man’s a Hun for a’that.

For a’that, and a’that,

The silken hat and a’that, Uo’„ K* i:„» .:ii . i i .

He’s hidin’ till ye look awa’,

To crack yer heid and a'that.

Ve ken thon bluntie wha’s their laird.

That struts and blaws and a’that,

And ses he’s weel acquent wi’ God, 1/ C 1 • . i . « .. i

Kens fine his plans, and a'that:

For a’that, and a’that,

His bleezin’ speech, and a’that

Ffe’s but a mannie wi' a sword,

He disna’ fecht, for a’that.

His crooked ways, and lyin’ tongue,

For brutal deeds, and a’that Tl V i .

There's nae a knave that ever swung

Could match the Hun in a’that.

For a'that, and a'that,

His paukief ways and a’that,

He hasna’ wut to hide his guile,

Iho superman and a’thai

And let me say, when comes the day

That men shall pay for a'that,

Auld Nick he’ll ca’: “A’ Huns this way

The fire’s new-trummed and a'that

For a’that, and a’that,

We’ll mak’ ye snug and a'that;

Yer Kaiser slang bin toastin' here.

He’s daen’ fine, and a’thai

* See Note preceding poem No. 9. t Paukie—Cunning, sly.

2!)

25

LITTLE BLUE EYES

To my Grandchild, June

What are you gazing at. Little Blue Eves ? I net in -i .1... i . .

Tost in a reverie deep as the skies ?

Far away on the pinions of fancy you’ve flown.

rorgctlul of Grandfather sitting alone.

What are the visions your day-dreams have bred ? WVlof * s-..1 1 . , „ . ...

What truant thoughts fill that fair little head ?

F><) you see once again the realm whence you came.

Ere mortals had claimed you-that land without name ?

Or to Alice in Wonderland is it you’ve soed in,l 11 J

And are awed by the Queen screaming : “ Off with her head I ” ?

Or have you like Goldilocks, braved the Three Bears

And are sitting, as she did, in each of their chairs ?

To Fairyland have you discovered the wav.

And learnt mystic secrets from some clever fav ?

For though you are here, yet you’re far, far away :

A queer kind of prank on your Grandpa to play !

Too old to go with you, he here must abide.

Awaiting with patience whate’e'r may betide ;

But soon back to poor, lonelv G randnn vnn’ll flv

puoi. toneiy Lx ran apa you 11 Hy. As the song-wearied lark drops to earth from the sky.

Notes—Stanza 4 “ fay=fairy.

5 “ drops to earth.’’

Nearly every country-bred child has noted the skylark

end its song abruptly, fold its wings, and drop to earth like a stone.

30

26

(Suggested b\ the morbid curiosity displaced by so mam persons when a street accident occurs.)

MOTOR KILLS

Parody *

I heard the motors tooting loud.

That go pell-mell o'er sale and hill.

When all at once I saw a crowd.

A host—and knew there’d been a “ kill.'

Beside the corpse, some on their knees.

Pushing and struggling,—in they squeeze.

Conspicuous as the bars that line

Hie precincts of the King’s highway.

1 marked the female form divine

Amid a mass of coarser clay.

Some dozens saw I at a glance.

Crossing the road to gain a stance.

1 he cars beside them raced, but thev

Ignored the cars—they meant to see;

A poet could not choose his wav

In such a jostling company. I IlfM; rr-i 7/jzl 1

I hey gazed—and gazed—but never thought

U hat grief the show to some had brought.

And oft when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood.

It flushes me with shame that I

Was one of a misguided brood,

Which curiosity so fills,

It needs must gloat on others' ills.*

• See note preceding poem No. 9.

31

27

A WELLINGTON COLLEGE SONG

scho.7W.'g" g Writte.f.^ore aS b!.T g n ' aCk H d * SCho °' have been that makes for permanent r’p . none has possessed that particular quality from the Hand td T VobeT.Tp " Sch °‘’ l The latest one is The song was first stinguh ' n P ,' " ,lo r t<l,n P ,, ' t ‘d both words and music. The words are as follows -i” Breakln S I p ceremony in December, 1930.

“ WELLINGTON ! ”

'■ T h< ! re WIU come in the future when youth lies behind ns

a, . . . , r /uin “ci ucinnci i And mem ne s of schooldays crowd back from dm „ :l «

-pi /” * 'MI N lIUJII Jlie echoes of chorus or cheers to remind us

Of days when the old School was victor at last.

Chorus (after each verse)

" Wellington ! Wellington ! ” Hear the’shouts ringing 1

Wellington . Wellington ! ” Hark to the call !

.. T. r ... " • »i«nrv iu me can: \\e mgton ! Wellington ! ” Proudly they're flinging,

Wellington ! Wellington ! ” Best of them all !

2. Once again well be back in the clays of our boyhood.

Again stoutly facing our rivals in play.

With delight we’ll remember that pass from the scrummage

. me suummas And the glorious field-goal that gained us the dav.

(Chorus)

3 ' ■ V ! KI ! hat game of cricket I Who does not remember?

f ' lIUL 1 Cl lie foe wanted four, and the last man was nine-

I 1 f , . ....... IIUO IUIU. A Jotty drive ended our hopes till the long-field

Enraptured the School with a catch on the line!

(Chorus)

4. I hen well think of the days when the Empire was calling

Her sons to defend her at duty’s behest •

Willi pride we’ll recall how the old School responded

And gave to our country her bravest and best.

(Chorus)

5. For the light that she’s brought us. the wisdom she's taught us.

Let each son be zealous her worth to extol :

And follow the pathway of earnest endeavour.

Willi Duty Ills watchword and Honour his goal.

(Chorus)

32

28

ANOTHER "LITTLE LIST"

Parody No. 7 *

Since Ko-Ko made his “ little list."

Now many years ago.

Of persons non-essential.

Or flagrantly de trop.

I he times have changed, and other bores,

Unknown to Ko-Ko's list.

Have permeated social life—

They, too, would not be missed.

1 here’s the golf enthusiast obsessed

With bunkers, clubs, and " lie

Likewise the motor maniac

Whose speed all rules defies • i

And grandmammas of seventy

Who ape “ sweet seventeen ” ;

All talkers who reiterate, “ ,

Well, you know what I mean,’’

The idiot who calls you Smith

When your cognomen’s Smythe.

An irritating nincompoop.

Who makes you fairly writhe;

■And the feminine wrong-number fiend,

She’s high up on the list

And the odds are overwhelmingly

Against her being missed.

After long consideration

I have added to the list

The pedagogues alleged to give

Their pabulum “a twist ”•+

And the canny politician, too.

Who’s everybody’s friend, \ „,I . .1. . •

And whose principles, thotteh firmlv fixed

Will neath pressure gently bend.

And those quasi-human ruminants

For ever chewing gum ;

All modern Jeremiahs

With prognostications glum;

All these form only one per cent—

But I must now desist.

And leave to shrewder brains the task

Of filling up the list.

* Sec note preceding |>ocm No. 9. t A thrust at teachers who covertly advocated communism

33

29

ADAM AND EVE

fashion comes and fashion goes,

At whose bidding no one knows.

Many with hi- podonti i»u mind, UntdvevtlirQUSr

Lags complacently behind ;

He long since resigned all hope

With Us vagaries e’er to cope.

Only woman’s intuition

Keeps abreast of the position.

Woman (though inclined to chatter) Tv OCII IT fls Cl til itv (I<.. I a .... I_ . ... .....

Knows the things that truly matter;

Knows that now her present hat

Is a sight to shudder at;

Though she thought, when first she wore it.

None could view and not adore it.

Well, ’tis past—and without sorrow;

For the sales begin tomorrow.

Not so man. A well-worn “ tile ”

Destitute of form or style

Is for him a prized possession V'.. I. . f-i I B , I _ _

Valued far beyond expression.

Not for rubies or fine gold

Would that cherished hat be sold

And were it not for woman’s guih

He still would own that much-loved “ tile ” •

But on a day—with grief ’tis stated—

Beneath the “ copper ” ’twas cremated :

And his eye instinctive turning.

Spied its latest fragment burning.

Man e'er is man, and woman woman.

Each a phase of what is human:

Wedlock fain would make them one.

Fiddlesticks ! It can’t be done.

34

KING WILLOW

King Willow comes out from his mystic retreat.

And a right merry monarch is he;

He spends all the winter in slumber profound,

But the sun brings him out with the bee.

His liegemen are waiting their captain to hail

And to join in the joyous campaign •

It needs no conscription his armies to raise, \ /'v 11. . I ..

No ribbons their zeal to maintain,

Now bring out the bat and the ball.’’ savs he

Not stand here in idle array,

Blue sky is above us, green turf ’neath our feet,

Then why should we longer delay ? ”

Be the contest at Lord’s, among players of fame,

Or a bout on some small village green.

King Willow is happy; he marks not their skill.

As long as his subjects are keen.

He loves a bold batsman who piles up the runs.

A bowler who skittles the wickets.

And a fieldsman who never abandons the race. T'OI „ i it

Till the ball rattles hard 'gainst the pickets.

He oft may be seen in some cunning disguise.

Say, an old man decrepit or lame \4rL _ . . I . 1 . .

" ho watches, discerning with gannet-like glance,

Every action and stroke in the game.

Then here s to King Willow and all his long train.

From Bradman to ten-year fim Small,

Who love the old game, and play it with zest

Loyal knights of the bat and the hall.

so

31

THE DOORKEEPER’S RETORT TO HITLER

Hcil. Hitler! Heil I I lately read

Your swaggering address. a:, i

Its dictatorial manner rather

Jarred me, 1 confess.

Even if you are the great Sheebang,

The loud and awful noise, i ,1,:., i, .

I think ’twere wiser to adopt

A less flamboyant poise.

When being Heiled ! and Heiled ! and Heiled 1

By many a shouting mob,

Your head is apt to swell, and make

You magnify your job. And nose as if ;i unnprim

vim pose as it a superman

Or else a minor god

But bear in mind, quite soon you’ll b(

Stretched out beneath the sod

. Or, even if the heights you climb

Ensure a costly tomb, i. 11 ...... .1

It will not mend your case at all t\ ' i

Or mitigate your doom ;

When Peter at the gate you meet,

And tender your credentials.

He’ll say, “This is the Realm of PEACE•

You lack all the essentials."

“And while I 'm guardian of this gate,

No Nazi shall pass through;

The boot’s now on (he other foot :

Remember, I’m a Tew ! ”

i(j

32

THE CHOICE

I somehow don’t quite see the way

To vote in this election;

For both sides have a stranglehold

It seems, upon perfection.

If either side had had defects,

How simple choice would be !

Hut since both are immaculate.

• ill '.lll V IVWlll 111 V I I I I 1 I 111 V II 111 I V Tis tough to a degree.

I am assuming you would make

A wise choice if you could.

And are prepared to separate in,..,- i •

What’s so-so from what's good;

We’re now asked to perform;

For both sides are so faultless that

There's no scope for reform.

For proof of this no need exists :

Both openly admit it;

Ultima Thule’s now attained,

And their’s the side that hit it.

Of course, I do not mean to say

Each side commends the other,

I merely mean each ‘ boosts ’ his own

And damns that of his brother

What chance have we benighted souls,

To choose twixt two perfections ?

To compass this we need a vote TT, „ * . ■ ■ i_ i • . . •

Fhat counts in both directions.

Vour pauper, having naught to lose.

May possibly condemn a

Voter with a stake, who’s mazed.

In this unique dilemma.

37

But that is not the simple task

33

"THE BOSS"

(An affectionate tribute to Mr. J. P. Firth on his retirement, attei nearly 30 years as Headmaster of Wellington College.)

Who taught us how to play the game,

How might and right are not the same,

1 hat honest work is more than fame ?

“ The Boss.”

Who led us all to strive with vim n .1

To scorn all methods that were “slim ” ; . . ’

To prize a word of praise from him ?

“ The Boss.”

Who, happ’ning on us unaware,

When mischief dire was in the air, PnlJtolll “ T I II

Politely asked, How will you square ? ”

“The Boss.’’

Who from his modest six-feet-five,

Would hope in four-feet-two revive.

Thenceforth the proudest boy alive ?

“ The Boss.”

Who in our school-days sowed the seed

That blossomed in the Empire’s need,

And gave us Honour for our creed ?

“ The Boss.”

Who shared our joys of bat and ball.

Who roused us at our country's call,

And won the hearts of one and all ?

“ The Boss."

38

34

FLY-TIME

’Tis fly-time and the busv fly

Is out to do his best;

He is up and at me early,

And he sees me off to rest;

Most meddlesome of creatures.

As good old Chaucer said;

I love him well at all times,

But I love him best when dead.

He is present at my breakfast,

And samples all my kai;*

He lands upon my scanty locks,

Or investigates my eye;

Of my ear he makes a haven

Where he steals a moment’s rest

For thinking out some fiendish plan

To improve him as a pest.

Yes, I love the gentle house fly,

So faithful and so true ;

Your human friends may leave you,

This the fly will never do;

He will visit you in sickness,

And dine with you in health,

And prove equally assiduous.

Amid poverty or wealth.

• Kai=Maori for food.

39

35

NURSERY RHYMES UP-TO-DATE

Little Miss Buffitt

Decided to rough it,

So dined at a common cafe;

A big watersider

Persistently eyed her.

And frightened Miss Buffitt away.

Clever Jack Horner

Created a “ corner ”

In fruit for the Christmas nie • u. * 1 ’

He put in a sum

And pulled off a “ plum ”

And said, “ What a smart man am I 1 ”

Jack and Lill

Ban up a bill

in ev ry trusting quarter;

Jack “ came down ”

And “did ” the town,

And Lill came tumbling after.

Gay Mrs. Spanker

Went to the banker

To get her poor husband a loan •

But when she got there

She was met with a stare

And so the poor husband got none.

I had a little motor

Enamelled in pale grey;

I lent it to a ladv

To drive a little way;

But she crashed it, and smashed it ln,t T>,._ .

And now I’ve got to pay;

O 17 > So I shan’t lend my motor more

To any lady gay.

There was an old woman

Who stood in a queue;*

They had so many orders

They didn’t know what to do;

She paid for her coal,

Then went home to bed:

The coal hasn’t come.

And the old woman's dead.

* Refers to a time of “ a coal famine.”

■lO

36

THE STRICKEN ADVERTISER

No matter what his aims may be,

No matter if he lies

To benefit his fellow men.

A man must advertise.

His product, he it what it may.

The work of hand or brain,

If he neglects to shout its praise,

He courts success in vain.

Though a trifling lack of candour

In his mode, one may perceive,

“ Humanum est errare" ’d be

His plea, I do believe;

When issuing a prospectus

How jejune would be bare truth :

It might deceive sheer ignorance

Or unsuspicious youth.

No, in the storm and stress of life.

Man dare hardly pause to choose;

He must banish candour, and employ

Such means as pedlars use.

Why wonder then, when we are told

Some “ used-car’s ” slaughtered price ?

The vendor scorns the loss he’s made;

And “ booms ” the sacrifice.

The loss that linen drapers court

At "sales”, nigh breaks one’s heart;

And trafficers in real estate.

From self-robbery must smart;

Nor are such rumours idly based

On fairy-tale or guess,

They’re real authentic losses made—

Vide the public press.

In your perusal of the “ ads,”

Impressed you’re bound to be

With devastating losses borne

Isy firms habitually;

For losses so stupendous—

And they frequently befall—

Leave you hopelessly bamboozled

How the firms survive at all.

41

37

SONG

THE BRITISH NAVY

Dare foes presume to curb the right

That Britons proudly claim,

The inborn right of Liberty

For all who bear that name ?

Yes, foeraen flushed with arrogance.

Now challenge Britain’s right.

.sow cnaiieuge isiuauis ngm, All envious of the place she’s won

By many a hard sea-fight.

Chorus : .

But the Navy, the British Navv

Dili me fiat j, me di iinn .> a \ > Has known such threats before;

Did Spain’s Amarda win renown

Gainst Drake’s ships off the Nore ?

From Jutland, too. the Germans fled

Before Britannia’s might

When Jellicoe and Beatty drove

Their ships in headlong flight.

The Nazis sent the Bismark forth

The Northern Seas to raid.

Convinced their swiftest battleship

Would break the close blockade.

At twelve miles range she spied the Hood.

— o~ r And with a lucky shot

She struck that great ship's magazines.

0........ ...... 6 ..... -■■ i' ■> - And sank her on the spot.

Chorus :

But the Navy, the British Navi

Felt anger, not dismay;

From c\’ry side the warships raced. ki ~..1 .... .

Nor rested night or day

The Air-arm. too. played well its part.

And ev’ry rating stood

Firm bound by oath, soon clinched by deed,

To straight avenge the Hood.

All tyrannies Britannia holds

As her persistent foes.

™ —■ And never while they live will tease

To strike them crushing blows.

Despite all Mussolini’s boasts.

Italian seamen failed;

For in the fight off Matapan,

Our British ships prevailed.

42

Ghori s :

And the Navy, the British Navy

Will not relax its hold,

Retaining still the bulldog grip

Far famed in fights of old.

Gainst tyrants of the Nazi breed,

Who would enslave the world.

Defiance by our British fleet,

Must endlessly be hurled.

Written at the request of the Musical Director in Wellington, of the National Broadcasting Service of New Zealand. It was set to music by the writer of titc words.

38

SONG

OUR UNION JACK

In other lands beloved (lags

Have noble deeds inspired;

Have stirred great souls to deathless deeds

That ages have admired;

And some flags wave o’er ruthless hordes

Who struck at Freedom's life,

Against such foes our Union Jack

Must wage relentless strife.

Refrain :

Then rally round the brave old flag

The flag that must fly free,

That ne'er has brooked a tyrant’s power

Be it on land or sea.

Can we our birthright e’er- resign.

And bear a conqueror’s yoke ?

Not while the Old Flag wields its power

True freemen to invoke.

We're not the breed that tyrants love,

A dumb, submissive crowd.

Who cringe before their Master’s scowl

Nor scarce dare groan aloud:

We were born and bred where Freedom reigns, X’.. f,w. . U..11 C.,...

No foe shall find us lack

The courage high, the dauntless will.

ft'- ft ' To guard our Union Jack.

Repeat Refrain.

These words were set to music In the author.

43

49

NEW ZEALAND

(Revised Version

1 here s a larjcl that lies in the Southern Seas.

Remote from the Old World’s bounds.

On whose rugged shores the mighty beat

Of the ocean’s heart resounds.

It lies in the path of the restless winds

I hat blow from out the west.

And shroud\ with everlasting snows

1 he towering mountain crest

There rata and beech and pine are born

Of these winds—a mantle green. r'l*. . u: i-ii i i

Clothing the hills and the stony steeps

And the valleys that lie between.

In the sheltered vales the tree-fern spreads

Its fronds o’er the hurrying stream.

That rushes and ramps, then, weary, rests

Where shimmering sunbeams gleam.

Tis a land where Nature's ways arc kind:

Its beauties far renowned: A \/K b.. * r. r ■ i

Where manuka* its fragrance lends.

And waterfalls resound.

Where daisied downs look up and smile

At skies of turquoise bine;

Where mountains stand marshalled, range on range.

And Hocks enhance the view.

Here Vulcan still conserves his fires

V-.V, . UU.UII JUli IWIULUtJ 1115 IIIC Neath Neauruhoef grand.

And lonely Egmont vigil keeps

On Taranaki's strand.

From some Lethean cave roars forth ... i. i

Pent steam with thund’rous sound.

Or tretful geyser, chafing long.

Flings skyward with a bound

Tis a land of promise, a land of youth

(Time long had passed it by) ;

No crumbling castles crown its crags,

No minsters years defv.

* Pron. nia-nu-ka. a like al) (in belli cases) . u like 00. Accent on ma. t Nga-u-ru-ho-e, five syllables; ihc o and the e Ixnh cut short, the e as in egg.

44

Its monuments and stately piles

Time’s slow, refining hand

Not yet has touched with the soft’ning line

1 hat art can ne’er command.

Here may the old-world traveller gauge

gauge The power of Britain’s hand.

Who sent her children forth to tame

A wild, but lovely land;

With faith unfaltering they faced

The hardships and the toil,

And won with brain and sinewy arm q..k< i ..

Subsistence from the soil.

And onward, upward, still they strove,

To make an equal land,

Where by his worth and not his birth \ .1. ■ <

A man should win command XW. l-i.i. - .

e children of those pioneers.

(Unurged by stress to roam) I,. .... >

Umg proudly to their Mother land.

And still we call it " Home"

40

SUNSHINE AND SHADOW

They say the grass is springing,

And the birds are gaily singing.’

And ‘ he land 15 fil ' ed Wl,h gladness for the coming of the Spring;

Bu' for metis rue that's springing.

And the songs .he birds are single

Awaken but sad memories, and idle longings bring

I was " hen the flowers were springing,

And the birds their carols singing"

«.,. A ' m .' e .u eW Y aken .’ d tau B ht me the rapture of the Soring

Kut now, though birds be singing. * 3prmg

On a grave the grass is springing,

And tlitir happiness adds sorrow to my sorrow, as they sing.

50

41

OUR ANCESTORS’ CAREER

Our ancestors’ career was hard.

So circumscribed their joys;

Unknown to them that sheer delight.

A modern city’s noise.

They did their best to raise a din.

With carts on cobble stones.

And an army of street venders,

Who bawled in strident tones.

But these were just the toddling steps

Of tyros at the game,

Which from our lofty altitude

Look ludicrously lame.

Those instruments-the best they had—

To make a worth-while row.

Were puerile; they, in fact, would be

Despised by children now.

The famed pneumatic rivetter

That soothes the modern ear,

The equally pneumatic pick

That helps our path to cheer,

Were silent to our forebears (Scot.)—

The “pipes” were all they had.

Nay ! brother Jock, there’s no affront :

I have not finished, lad.

The pipes, I grant, sound full as sweet

As the pneumatic picks.

Yet lack the pick's dynamic note

Disintegrating bricks;

But when it’s an endurance test

On which all thoughts are pinned. I’ll • . I . ,

J II back the pipes against the field—

They’re longer in the wind.

Our late forefathers did not share

With us that pure delight

The booming of “ loud-speakers ”

In the dead vast of the night.

Nor did their citizens foresee

The modern use of dogs;

That is, to rasp the nerves of those

Who do not sleep like logs.

Deprived of all such benefits—

More widely than we know—

How hard to be an ancestor,

And life’s best joys forgo!

IG

•42

SPRING

No self respecting poet (no matter how poor) , will let Spring go bv unsung. The spring-poet, however, has become conservative and too idealistic. The following is an attempt to treat the subject in a commonsense. practical manner that should appeal to business men and give a lead to our rising poets.

When the hefty football player takes his ease,

And the young suburban husband plants his peas.

When you see the housewife rubbing

Eternally and scrubbing,

You may take it, gentle maiden.

It is Spring.

When the tramper dons his rucksack and his shorts,

And the cricketer upon the turf disports

Himself in flannels white,

With a blazer overbright—

Shed your winter hat, dear maiden

It is Spring.

When you hear the pullets cackling loud at morn.

In their cooped-up city quarters so forlorn,

If in lodgings you should be.

You may take this tip from me

Eggs for breakfast now, sweet maiden,

It is Spring.

Should you see the lambs disporting round their mums

(That is before their time for freezing comes), \nrl llv/> ... .. ...

And the butcher brings you ram

(Euphemistically “lamb”),

Believe him, artless maiden,

It is Spring,

The “ Celestial ” purveyor now displays

New potatoes, peas, and lettuce on his trays,

And the whitebait vender’s cries

In suburban streets arise—

These are portents, happy maiden

JLv-uia, ii.i pj Of the Spring.

When round the drapers’ windows full of hats

You see women buzzing, thick as summer gnats,

—• • i cco JUUIUU.X It is proof beyond all doubt

That ‘ ‘winter things’* nrf* " nut ” ■

*«»■ wuiici tm are out So rejoice, I say, fair maiden.

It is Spring.

17

43

THE DRILLING DOMINIE

Parody No. 8 •

I bis piece was written on the occasion of the Garlick Camp of Physical Instruction. Ihe Government Schools were closed for a week to provide an opportunity of giving Physical Instruction to all teachers in the Public Schools of the Dominion.

In the Wellington District the male teachers went into camp on the Hint Racecourse, with the exception of the elderly men. These were conveyed to and from the camp daily, by train to lower Hutt; and between the railway station there and the camp, they went by bus, morning and evening, across the Hutt river.

At the request of the Journal of Education, these verses were published in that journal at the time. Apologies to Henry Xewboll, author of the lines parodied. The Fighting Temeraire, are here made.

(\ arious incidents in the Garlick Camp, see note above.)

It was eight bells ringing,

And the sausages were done,

And the orderlies were bringing

In the dishes one by one.

It was eight bells ringing,

And the orderlies were bringing

Chops and sausages, and flinging

Down the dishes one by one

Oh ! to get some porridge steaming.

It is rare ! It is rare ! AU I . ~ U

Oh ! to see enough spoons gleaming

Still more rare ! Still more rare !

How to get some porridge steaming,

And to see enough spoons gleaming,

Is the thing that we are scheming

As we sit and ponder there

It was noontide ringing,

And the morning drill was done,

To his pipe each man was clinging,

It enhanced the rest he’d won;

It was noontide ringing.

To his pipe each man was clinging,

But with form alert for springing

For the mess-tent, on the run.

* See note preceding poem No. 9. This apology was made in error.

48

There’ll be some without a plate boys.

... vwv/ul « uuys, Plates are rare ! Plates are rare !

There'll be none if you are late boys,

So be there I So be there !

1 here’ll be some without a plate bovs,

You’ll be one if you are late boys, Ulll v.-z/ll ~11 .1 • .1 .

Hut we II all share in the wait boys,

And inhale the fine fresh air.

T here s a square meal looming

At the setting of the sun.

How its phantom odours fuming

I —iiiiumo Make us eager to be done ! Tl™'. „ . ,

there’s a square meal looming,

How its phantom odours fuming

Make us yearn for home and grooming

\\ hen tire long day’s drill is done.

When the sunset breezes shiver

We’ll be there ! We’ll be there !

Though we get a touch of liver,

We don’t care ! We don’t care !

~ . > . V, uu 11 L CtlX' When the sunset breezes shiver,

And the ’bus comes o’er the river i

1 hough we overload our liver

We’ll be there ! We ll be there !

4<)

44

EDUCATIONAL REFORM

For years, aye many years, its been

My crystalised opinion

That education practice is

Awry in this Dominion

And that I'm right beyond a doubt

In this my firm contention,

Is proved by great authorities

Quite needless here to mention.

To prattle in their mother tongue

Mere children are permitted;

While subjects of transcendent worth

Are studiously omitted.

Our little tots are given flowers

And pets that they may rear 'em

Neglecting for such futile things

The great binomial theorem.

Young budding minds are fretted with

Much adding and subtracting.

Regardless of the part in life

They’ll one day be enacting;

They’re doomed to tread the mazy path

Of racecourse speculations,

Ungrounded in the principles

That govern permutations.

Vocational in character

Should be their early training,

To know when cost of living's up

And when, if e’re, its waning.

A course in modern bankruptcy

Has much to recommend it :

'Tis not enough to garner wealth.

o o ’ One must know how to fend it.

If mine had been (he mind to frame

The social science course,

Each child should now be learning el-

Ementary divorce;

This boon, like aviation, has

Quite lately been perfected

Its latent possibilities

Too long were unsuspected

50

1 mention just a few defects

In pedagogic practice;

An art as difficult, I’m told.

As skating is on cracked ice, U■. . ~ • 1 i. • ...

But obstacles must be o’ercomi

And education righted.

No longer should we grope our way

Like travellers benighted.

4i

JOYS OF THE CAR OWNER

I d like to own a motor-car

Though not to go joy-riding; T',-1 I r_.. i .

I'd keep it for a nobler use,

1 don’t mind here confidim

Like other men I long to lie

Beneath a car extended.

And prove, ’mid oil and grime, the joy

Of leisure thus expended.

While neighbours all around I see

Engaged in this pursuit.

I often feel that I should maki

A capable recruit ■

For I am fond of mess and dirt.

And dote on oily waste.

While nuts and greasy springs and screws

Exactly suit my taste.

My Sunday mornings are, alas !

Now shockingly misspent,

In prowling round ray garden,

Or on hiking pleasures bent;

Whereas, had I a motor-car

I should clean it all day long,

And make an inharmonious life,

One grand— sweet—song.

51

4b

A PROTEST

A section of the community at the time, protested against Wellington s then recently-established municipal milk supply. The meeting took place in 1922.

“ This meeting is called," said the thief germ, Typhoidus,

" To tender our thanks to all those who've employed us;

And to enter our protest—it can’t be too firm—

’Gainst the wrong that's been done to the poor working germ.

There's that man they call Gnaw-wood*—l think that’s the name—

Who lor all of our troubles is mostly to blame;

When the milk trade was winning us tricks by the score,

He became most officious, and shoved in his oar

This pasteurised milk is so grossly unfair

That a strong deputation must wait on the Mayor;

And, in English as plain as our tongues can command,

Say this milk distribution’s a thing we won't stand.”

Then Patrick Diphtheria sprang to his feet

• iiv.il * aviuiv i jvi 11 tiv. i ict opiaiig ivy iiia IV,V-1, And. putting it mildly, he “ went off a treat

" Thim cursed clane battles, I'll break ivry won.

And give ivry councillor hell, barrin’ none! ”

But the chairman called Patrick to order, and said :

" Though your anger is righteous, Pat, easy ahead;

We’ll wait on the Council, without more delay

And lodge our complaints in a dignified way.”

And there, sure enough, when the Council next meets

Are three truculent germs in the Councillors’ seats.

Says the Mayor : “ If you’re catching, you’d better get out;

If you’re not, let us hear what the trouble’s about.’’

Then chief germ, Typhoidus, arose, and said he,

"With this new-fangled milk scheme we cannot agree;

The citizens may get their milk on good terms.

But it’s over the odds for us hard-working germs.

“ And whatever advantage to others its giving,

For us it makes harder the problem of living;

The doctor and nurse, too, it’s robbing, I say,

Of a eery large part of their regular pay

"Now ihe Stonemason’s Union’s begun to complain;

T hough protest is useless, they firmly maintain;

Dire poverty threatens the troubled wreath-maker

And you’re breaking the heart of the poor undertaker."

• The reference is to Sir Charles Norwood, then chairman of the

Wellington City Council's Milk Committee.

52

58

OUR BEER

(Written during First World-war)

We hate sent our lads in thousands.

Aye, in scores of thousands now.

To bleed, and die, it may be

For the cause we all hold dear;

We have given of our treasure,

Freely, gladly, without measure

But we make one reservation

We will not give up our Beer

I is the bulwark of our nation,

ft has made us what we are

I is the star that gleams before us

When the world is dark and drear •

Take our Lares and Penates,

Take our bread and meat and “ taties,”

All these are superfluities

When measured by our Beer

Tis on this our constitution

ls founded firm and strong;

And the rights our fathers bled foi-

To our hearts are vers- near;

We are ready to surrender

Home and hearth, and likewise fender

Making one distinct exception;

To wit, “ the Fam’lv Beer.”

Could we see the pallid brewer

Brooding o’er the “might have been,”

Would our hearts be void of pity

And our eyes refuse a tear ?

Could we bear to see him languish

Neath the load of loss and anguish

That would crush his gentle spirit

If we abrogated Beer?

No: in courage and devotion

To our country and our King

We yield to no man living.

Be he peasant, knight, or peer:

Take, if need, our sons and daughters;

Take our lands, and min’ral waters-

But we can’t resign our birthright

Life’s sheet-anchor, glorious Beer.

53

59

NOT ON SIDE

That woman is man’s equal needs

No demonstration here;

I his. Nature sometimes disregards,

With consequences queer.

For Nature is a humourist.

Who oft times plays the joke

Of harnessing an ox and ass

In matrimonial yoke.

I here s Major Long, some six feet five ;

His wife is four feet three ■

What chance have these,” I ask, " to stand

On an equality ? ”

And Mrs. Broad—she’s fourteen stone-

Her husband nine stone eight •

The cards have not been fairly deal

To “ hubby ” and his mat

1 here s Mrs. C., who’s fond of " life."

While C. it bores to tears ■

Ihey’ve long survived the tender terms

That graced their halcyon years ;

So Mrs. C., when kept at home.

Sharp comment does not spare;

While Mr. C., if taken out

Is genial as a bear.

Fis irony on Nature’s part

I'd link such souls as these.

Who have as much affinity

As chocolate and cheese-

What wonder then, if married life

Revolves around the Poker,

When on the King and Queen ol Hearts

Dame Nature plays the Joker.

54

49

MAKIN’ A RAYPUBLIC

(This tells of the Irish Republic when in process of formation'

If it’s paace ye would be sakin’

Thin in Bilfast ye sh’ud dwill ■

It is the paaceful city,

And it s Oi that know it will; a . i

At iv’ry busy corner

There’s a handy little gun

lo kape the bhoys in orrder

Whin they’re boi-strous in their fun.

And ’dade now tho’ its paaceful,

' Faith it’s lar from bein’ dhull;

For there’s plisant little strate-foights

Coin’ on widout a lull

And there s bhoys loike Tirence Murphy

Shootin’ pol-is-men all day,

Not to mintion bombs they’s throwin’

Froom the roof acrost the way.

Now, is there e’er a city

That the sun shines on today

juiutj v_rii iu-uay, IV here the citizens thry harder

Irritation to allay ?

Gad ! there’s min paradin’ always

octiu <mv(tys VVhd a gun or hand grenade.

Settlin quarrels that moight happen,

And that sometoimes do, indade.

i here’s a pythri-ot-ic body

In Quid Ireland called Sinn Fein,

Ye 11 have heard thim towld of maybe

And ye 11 know the bhoys Oi mane • T1,,,.;.. • i . . ' . ’

ihey’ve a moighty thurst for fraydom,

And their hearts for Erin yearn

I hey kape the home fires burnin’

While there’s e’er a home to burn.

Now in Bilfast they’re in plinty, \ n 1. • • I. . i 1

All workin hard, of course.

Breakin jails and wreckin’ thramcars Vol ikot, I I • f

Yet they moight he doin’ worse-

For they’re buildin’ a ravoublic

. wuiiuui a x «xypuuilC f)f Orange min and Granc,

And thase take a dale of mixin’

As is aisy to be sane.

55

r.o

IN MEMORIAM

One of these days you may come across some bncs in one of the New Zealand papers somewhat after this fashion

OBITUARY

ROBERT JAMES POPE

Old lengthy Robert’s passed away

His destination unrevealed

Perhaps twere kinder not to seek

What charity judged best concealed.

He tiled his duty to perform

Had done good, too, by fits and starts

His life recalls the curate’s egg

Twas really excellent—in parts.

And olt when I recall him nov

I firmly think he wronged himself

He might have left a treasured fame

Had he the soul that covets pelf

We scarce can feel that merit pun

Has gained for him supernal joy;

A lenient judge is our best hope.

The last resource in Love's employ.

56