WITH OUR OWN POETS

Auckland Star, Volume LXXII, Issue 137, 12 June 1941, Page 16

WITH OUR OWN POETS

WILD WIRELESS.

An owl who had hooted all night Left the mice in a terrible fright. When she went to her bed, "That's a broadcast," they said, "Which no rodent could hear with delight!"

THE GARDENER. '

There was a little gardener Who spent the summer days Planting rows of buttons To see what he could raise. "If vines come up I'll get," said he, "Some button-hooks for poles." But digging down he found instead A crop of button-holes.

RIDDLES.

(From Grace Johnston, Onslow Rd., Papakura.) What has a tongue but cannot speak?—A boot. Why is a bad picture like weak tea?— Because it is not drawn properly. Why is a pillar-box like a story? Because they are both red (read). WHAT REALLY MATTERS.' Tisn't what you are, but how you live, Tisn't what you have, but how you give, Tisn't what you do, but how you do it, That makes life worth goinc through it. b

RHYMING RIDDLES (Prom Colleen Llneen. Royml Hotel, Victoria Street. Auckland.) Something sweet and also sour Made by a queen in a summer hour? Tart One is found beside the fire - One goes chirping in the mire? Cricket. Though they're neither flirts nor prinkers. They are most accomplished winkers? Stars. Every time he feels the sun This poor fellow starts to run? Snowman. Mirrors, goblets, glasses all, \vnich alone has learnt to fall? Tumblers. GOOD TIDINGS. As a spider spun over a well He lost balance and down it he fell "When the flies overhead See me drowning,' , he said "They'll have news it delights them to tell!" RIDDLE RHYME. : (Prom Noelle Kelleher. Faulkner Ro»d. NortheoU) Riddle-me, riddie-me. riddle-me-ree Perhaps you can tell me what this riddle may be? As deep as a house, as round as a cup. And all the king's horses can*t draw it up. Answer: A well.