Shaun’s Patch

Southland Times, Issue 21729, 15 June 1932, Page 8

Shaun’s Patch

A llttl* nonsen** now U «n«be4 by th. ’ l “ ,t —HudIbTML

C.S., sends me this:

Tripe, treated by a special process invented by a German, is: turned into a “skin,” from which thousands ot handbags sold in England are made. But why send to Germany for you* trine’ Why there s enough tripe Suced in the N.Z. Parliament m one session to. supply all England for a decade.—Shaun will doubtless bring this matter before the notice of the Ottawa delegation. # , the legend of the trews. An Old Scottish Ballad. There lived a chief in days of old Renown-ed for his heart of gold, Who held the love of every man And woman in his hardy clan.

A tribe who lived not far away Invited him to come and stay , And asking hirn they sa d they’d. hef Have him presiding as their cniet.

Away he went with gallant suite Of kilts and chieftains all complete, Resolved in mode and manner trim To honour those who honoured him.

Alas, that he should find again The best laid plans of mice and men, As Bums has said, will go to pot If some small detail is forgot.

As came the hour of meeting nigh The chief gave forth a fearsome cry, For he had found that one can lose The small but necessary trews.

No time the garment to replace! But how to save the leaders face. At last a chieftain smote the rue ;> With: “P’raps a female pair would do.

Necessity has ever bent Man’s mind to thoughts of strange in-

"vent, And chiefs who are deprived of troos-

ers, Like beggarmen, cannot be choosers.

Strangely garbed, in confidence The chief went forth and in the tents No clansman in that mighty throng Had any inkling aught was wrong.

Next morn the chief rose from his

couch . And pressed his robes into his pouch, But left behind upon the quilt The foreign partner of his kilt.

A chieftain warned him: “Sir, beware! For reputations past repair Can damaged be by those who find Such awful witness left behind.”

The old chief shrewdly wagged his

head, “We leave them here,” he sagely said, “And she who to our succour came Her .... robe will quietly reclaim.”

Thus off they hurried down the hall When suddenly they heard a call Which made them turn and others, too, To see what caused this loud ado.

Along the hall a maiden ran, Aloft she held for all to scan The .... robe .... and cried—the

crack of doom! “Oh, chief, I found these in your room.” To all the chieftains then he spake: “This is a terrible mistake And on this all must silent be Lest errors live in history.”

This happened many years ago, And very few the legend know; But if you would not come to grief, Don’t mention it to any chief.