STRIKE JOTTINGS.

Pahiatua Herald, Volume XVIII, Issue 4700, 29 November 1913, Page 6

STRIKE JOTTINGS.

Some time after tlie men from the, Corinthic had been taken to the police ! station, Mr G. G. Farland, secretary i of the old Waterside Workers’ Union, and Mr P. C. Webb, M.P., were ob- ! served on the wharf in the vicinity of the Home liner. It is stated that the secretary of the late union nfanaged to pass the specials on duty at the entrance to the Queen’s wharf gates on the word of a member of the Permanent Artillery. Subsequently, however, it is stated that the specials, realising their mistake, approached Mr Farland and asked him to produce his pass. Ou examination it was found l that tne document was not in order, and Mr Farland was forthwith escorted off the wharf.

At one time Mr Webb was observed at the foot of the Cforinthic’s gangway. As soon as two officers on deck 1 made a move towards him Mr Webb disappeared. i * THE MINGEY COCKATOO. A correspondent signing himself “Sydney,” writing in yesterday’s “Dominion,” said: The attached lines, which appeared some years ago in the Sydney “Bulletin,” appear to me to be so framed as to remind many of the Bed Feds, who have been maligning the hard-working farmers that they owe something to the said farmers: — Ten or fifty miles from nowhere By a road that’s on the map, "Where the bush is wild and thickest, ! You will strike a new cleared gap: There will be a punga whare And a bearded fellow who Drops his axe and growls “Good Morning,” As be turns and stares at you. Look at liim and stop and {Kinder — He’s a Mingy Cockatoo. He’s the man who pays the taxes, Raises children for the State, Works from daylight unto darkness, Hardly knows the day or date; Yet ’tis he cements the Empire, And from such are horn the great. Stop, O citizen, and ponder, Think these facts are somewhat new? Why, the backbone of the country ! Is the Mingy Cockatoo. Who has felled the mighty forests, Ploughed the fern and burnt the flax, Cleared away the stumps and rubbish, | Formed the roads and cut the tracks, Made your boasted butter merchants, j Budded up your meat exports, , Brought the trade that made your cities, With their shipping and their ports. I Look around you, pause and wonder; j Think it over, it is true —

He’s the maker of your country Is the Mingy Cockatoo. You may cheer your Transvaal heroes. Ye may sound your fife and drum, Ye may laud the God of battles, But remember ye the one Who is fighting a lone-hander With the axe and not a gun— Fighting Nature in the back-blocks, In heroic sdence, too — For the Hero of your Country Ts the Mighty Cockatoo.