THE VILLAGE LOAFER.

Auckland Star, Volume XXX, Issue 130, 3 June 1899, Page 2 (Supplement)

THE VILLAGE LOAFER.

Under the pub's great painted sign The village loafer stands; A big, ungainly man is he, With large, unshapely hands, And his costume rits him like a bag', Tied up with numerous bands. His hair is crisp and closely cut, : His face is like a map, His nose is red as a boil'd beetroot, And he isn't worth a rap. And he looks the image of despair, For the landlord's stopt the tap. Week in,week out, from morn till night, You can see him loaf around; He has a certain beat to walk, A place where to be found; Like a sentinel who minds his post On martial duty bound. The children coming home from school' Look on with wondering eyes; They mark him out with ugly names, And his language criticise. i For they often hear him growl ana swear, As he hates the sight of boys. He goes on Monday to the shop Where hang the golden globes; He argues with the broker's dork ,v»t' To take his seedy robes; And his temper when they will not ~ 'part' Is far from that of Job's. He thinks the clerk a hardened case, . As out the door he goes, And carries forth his pack of worn, Dilapidated clothes, And with his large black hand he wipes : A tear from off his nose. Idling, loaflng, bumming, Onward through life he goes. Each morning sees his walk begun, , Each evening sees its close; Something attempted, something done ; To decorate his nose. Farewell to thee, unworthy friend, This subject thou hast brought. Thus thou may choose to loaf around, Without a care or thought; And thus continue on to do The things thou didn't ought. C, P, W. i