THE ADVERTISEMENT FIEND

Evening Star, Issue 15477, 27 April 1914, Page 9

THE ADVERTISEMENT FIEND

(A "Poem" with a "Purpose.") I will got me away to the Back of Beyond • I am weary of bustle and glare, Of fashion and frivol, a world they call civil And an atmosphere wanting in air. '" I will hie me alone to a sylvan retreat. And recline in gome beautiful spot, Where there isn't a sound of the city's dull round, And' the sign of the trader is not. So I breasted the mountainous peak, and behold I ' On the loftiest pinnacle there, I read, with a shock, deeply graved in the rock: "Try Dingleby's Dye for grey hair!" Then I turned to the river where wildly it raved Through a lovely ravine in the hills; Where the rocks in its bed stood out boldly I read: "If seedy, take Parminter'a Pills 1 M" Nest I fled to the Torest to hide in its shades, v ßufc a letter stood out on each tree, Which, combined in a row and arranged, read just so, Thus : " A.N.T.1.F.A.T."!!! 1 Then I fled from the solitudes, wrathful and pained, And the banks of that fair woodland lane Shrieked "Tyres" and "Beer," till the calm atmosphere Seemed to ring with the haunting refrain. Ohl where will he stop, this advertisement fiend, Who would make of dear Nature a sham; On the Alps write a plea for some " tuppenny" tea, At the Pole, "pumpkin jam"? Will he buy up the clouds and the sands of the sea, And be teaching the waves as they roll, And the twittering birds all to utter the words Of "advertisement dear to his soul? I would dig him a grave and inter him therein, Then invoke his lank ghost to appear, To Stray to and fro, for aft aeon or so, Through the soenes he disfigured down here. When the stubble grew thick on his cheeks and his chin, I would force this pale ghost to allege " Rout's rftzoi 1 * are best," and to shave, for a test, With a chipped one that hadn't ail edge. I'd give him a " cycle " with " tyre" punctured flat, In a country of hills far and near; When he craved for a drink give him " tea " blaek asi ink, And simply refuse him the " beer." For every quack nostrum he cried upon earth, I'd give him a "dose" or a. "pill," And when he had quaffed every nauseous draught, I'd sue hini at once for the bill. AS tlimner he grew 1 would force hini 16 take His " Antifat " cures one by. one; For his hair make him try his " superior" dye— The kind that turns green m the sun!!! fd condemn hini for ever and ever, at last, His list of good "ads" to indite Fof the shades of dead men, with his " best" fountain pen—- „ The kind that refuses to write. —lsabel Maud Peacooke, Remuera.