A Christmas Medley.

Observer, Volume 9, Issue 574, 28 December 1889, Page 3

A Christmas Medley.

(By 'Firm.')

No sentimental tale I tell, With faintly sweet melodious swell, And accents softly tender. I sing ye of the common foe— That enemy so many know — The Christmas money-lender. Impossible as it may seem, Some portion of our creme^de la creme, As sure as I'm a sinner. Although their fame is widely blown, Are forced to make an annual loan To buy the Christmas dinner Oh, shame ! Our ancient chivalry From Parnell unto Ponsonby, In this transcendent free land, From Lawson some respite to win, Must pop their last allotment in The pawnshop of New Zealand. Eight woJl they flaunt the ready cash, And cut the old proverbial dash, Deep draughts of pleasure drinking ; But soon their golden chains shall fret, For still more deeply into debt They rapidly are sinking. What wonder that their shams succeed, When half the paragaphs we read Are full of specious lying ; While creditors in sorrow squirm, And o'er each leading city firm The whitewash brush is flying. When leaders of the local press Persist, with native modestness, In naked truth disguising ; When frauds advance, and worth recedes, What fool will start to find the weeds In rich profusion rising. When vice ssems growing every day, We need, to check its vicious sway, No toadying time-server ; The current topics to relate, And tell us of the social state, We need a keen Observer. I'm sure you're wearied by this time Of this fantastic little rhyme ; Poor Muse, farewell to you, dear. To those who read this Borry scrawl, A Merry Christmas to you all, Also A Happy New Year !