MIDNIGHT MUSIC.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 58, 9 March 1935, Page 2 (Supplement)

MIDNIGHT MUSIC.

The noise of trams, buses, lorries and cars on the particular section of the Great South Road to which "Householder" refers eclipses by far the pleasant mellow burbling of a motor cycle exhaust. The motor cyclist is, in. most cases, an extremely considerate person. i ti —Correspondent in " Star. When the long, long day is ending with its noises so distracting, . Ita Bhrieka no longer blending with a clatter so exacting, When the dreadful din of Wagner or of Chopin's off the air. And the Uncle Bill's are silent and do all to bed repair; When Ihe crooner with the adenoids has ceased to use the mike, There conies at last, lu slumber, Lilting wheels in any number, Oh the pleasant mellow burbling of the gentle midnight bike.! When no longer lines of lorries scream like Hades up the hill. And the gelignite in quarries Is at rest — so deadly still, When the constant dredge no longer squeaks and squawks and scrapes and groans, Like your poor old grandpa bmitnklns with rheumatics in his bones: Then you steal into your blanket hoping, for the love of Mike, For (he burbling—how you thank it, Sweet ohl, dear old motor bike! When you've listened to the gunfire of His Majesty's great ships, Heard the local Hoods u-roaring, listened to the railway slips. When the massed bands bang and tootle, And the groans of I rams are brutal, And the M.1 , . (Mr. Footle), Splits the welkin —how you like Siime little arias tuneful, liven though the merest, xpoonful From the throat of the exhaust pipe of the burbling mellow bike ! When the earthquake shakes the saucers down upon die homely kitchen. When the local youths with tin-cans are engaged half bricks a pitehin', When two Oonen dogs are fighting, Or two soap-boxers are skiting, Or two Ijdies are α-bitlng, Oil. steal away and rest ye, to the music ye best like, Th'p lovely, lovely lilting of the dear chromatic bike ! When the long, long day is ended, with its noises so distracting, And (ho night with peace is blended with sweet sounds far less exacting, When no gongs or Vlls are booming. Not. II single air-plane zooming. No unsobor boanler rooming. Nor our friend the villngo blacksmith with' his anvil out on strike: Then you seek sonic private sleeping Kest from daily toil a reaping. Till there comes a fiend a-creeping On his hellish motor bike ! —C.J.