Page 19 Advertisements Column 1

Press, Volume LXXIV, Issue 22389, 30 April 1938, Page 19

"THEM WAS THE DAYS! A Tale to Buy a Beer (SPXCIAU.Y 'WBrrTEN FOB THE PRIES.) [By BRUCE STRONACH.] He leant on the bar, And clumsily spilt half his beer—a very great pity. And said: Look, I'm just off the tussocks. You folk in the city ' Don't know you're alive. Let me tell you a yarn. But first, let us have some more beer. I don t give a darn Who pays for it. Listen to this: Up the lonely Poulter river, in the land of ice and snow, I was camped there killing rabbits, many, many, years ago. . ~ And to help was Jimmy Simmons —he was freshly off the flat. He was keen to learn, and came up in a brand new cowboy hat. We slaughtered lots of rabbits, and a hundred keas, too; . , And we killed fhe pigs in dozens, just as we were told to do. And the kiwis and the wekas and the cattle running wild; We shot them off in thousands, and thats to put it mild. The winter closed about us, and we filled the hut with wood. ~,•,,, In a snow bank at the river we stored all the meat we could. . We had flour and tea and sugar and a jar of fiery grog. We had all that we could wish for, food for man and horse and dog. When the snow came, it came properly, and covered all the hill. We sat and read and talked and slept and ate our blooming fill. While I read my dog-eared Bible, Jimmy read the news and cables; And when we'd finished all of these we read the jam-tin labels. This state of things was excellent, too jolly good to last. Some little coots got at the flour, and soon the flour was past. A dog got in the tucker box and licked up all the butter. • We shot him through the liver, and he died without a mutter. A lion ate the horses. What! ! There are no lions there? My lad, you go and have a look. You'll get a dinkum scare. And see, my friend, I'm telling you—no need to listen here . - And anyhow, I'm thirsty, what about a mug at beer. Some wolves got to our store of meat and ate th« bally lot . .. . And left young Jim and me to starve in tna« accursed spot. ' And if you say there are no wolves, up where tno Poulter flows, I've got a photo, somewhere of them pulling down some does. So there we were both starving under 40 feet o£ ice. We ate our clothes and bedding and we tried to cook the lice. I think I ate young Jimmy, but I can t remember that . x _, , I can't forget the awful taste of trouser stew—and hat! It took me years to tunnel out— l came out near the Cass. , . x . I've held the floor for long enough—it makes in* dry to gas. „ . So what about another pint— no drier man is Jiving. Won't one of you boys touch your kick, and taste the joy of giving!