POLITICAL RHYMES.
No. 20. — PROTECTION.
"O ! whither go you ? I pray you tell The name of the land you seek ; I know all the lands of the earth right well, That are lib for the poor and meek !"
Then up and spake a working man, " To New Zealand am I bound, For the 3un shall smile on my honest toil, And a fortune there be found !"
" Nay ! nay I" the warning voice replied, " Stay at home, I say to you, For the golden grain of each fertile plain Belongeth but to a few. " They will tax your right to use a spade, All things you may drink and eat — They'll tax and tax till at rest you're laid, And they'll tax your winding sheet!" "Now God be prais'd," said the working man, " These things I like full well— For I'll go from free trade England, Where labour has heard its knell 1 " For here the Chinese send their tea, And the Dutchman sells his cheese; And the prisons and gaols make German nails, And schooners to roam the seas ! " So I leave Old Free Trade England, , For a land 'neath a summer sky, For don't you see- -'tis better for me To be tax'd for the tilings I buy
"Than to starve and watch the things comein From the Dutch and the Germans too— For they send us a rake that I could make ; Yet 1 have nought to do ! !J
" Oh ! whither go you, my farmer bold, Across this summer-sea?" " I go to the land of the Southern Cross, Where peace and wealth may be."
" Nay ! stay at home," the voice replied, " 'Tis a land that is taxed full sore— Theywilltaxyourploughandtheseedyousow And then look round for more."
"I leave a lani," the farmer said, " I have worked in, might and main, Where a life is spent in arrears of rent, And the poor-house is our gain !
" Where butter and eggs from Amsterdam, And coffins also wo buy ; Not a word can we say when our hens won't lay, And our milking cows turn dry.
" So I do not-care if they tax the ground, And the plough, and the seed I sow, So they keep the foreign produce out. And give ms a chance to mow.
" For what is tho use of honest toil, Where free trade rules the land ? I know full well that we cannot sell To a man with an empty hand."
So I think our rulers will now agree Frcetrade has been a curse; And as we're as low as our luck will go, Protection can't be ivome.
W. R. Wills,
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Bibliographic details
Auckland Star, Volume XIX, Issue 142, 16 June 1888, Page 8
Word Count
435POLITICAL RHYMES. Auckland Star, Volume XIX, Issue 142, 16 June 1888, Page 8
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