Waitekauri every Time !

Observer, Volume XVI, Issue 948, 27 February 1897, Page 14

Waitekauri every Time !

'";'' (Edwin Edwabds)., ■ : " There's a good old war-cry. sounding.

In the city, lg the township, in the mine, and • • on the tip;. • - . A. phrase that gives the story of the oia prospectors' pluck, . • Their doings with the pick and gad, Their cursed bally lupk, ~ WHen the battered aish flowed empty, bar a tail of new-chum gold, Or it gave a ring of ' colour ' that betokened wealth untold. I can weave it in my ballad ; I can BWing it in my rhyme; its— : Waitekauril . Waitekauril Waitekatxbi! Every Time , Oh ! I ttibute ' «*•*»» *>- (You had to 3 * I "]* y° ar grog those times from When all the picks were famished by poor old Pick-handle Dan, And Harry Skene retorted in a broken fry-ing-pan ; J when the dirt went 15 ounces, and every now and then They used to weigh the bullion— not by troy weight — but by men ! I can swing it in my ballad ; I can weave it m my rhyme ; • ItsWaitekanri ! Waitekauri! Waitekauri! Every Time ! They never growled at road or track, or at the County groan, With a compass and a slasher they would travel • on their own.' I used to pack the tucker to the ' Perseverance push,' And the only road I knew of then was blasphemy and bush. There was no Kae nor Ryan, but the bhoys could get their fill sVehy^U* tHree> QP at Padd r Ah, the tears come in my ballad, and the sadness m my rhyme ; Those times 'twas— Waitekauri ! Waitekauri I Every Time ! But now they've got a boarding house, a lock" up and a cop, And a milkman and a parson, and good Gawd ! a barber's shop ! J. Bull, he owns the country, and he snavels every find, And the poor old-timer, well, he gets the dust that blows behind. Perhaps^ it's for the better, but somehow it seems to me * That up there, at the Beehive, they aint what they used to be ; There isn't just the accent as they howled it in their prime, When the ranges used to echo, ; Waitekauri! Every Time ! I think of those vast aisles of bush and fern where I have heard The whistle of the tul and the sereechine of that bird, - ° The gloomy, lonesome kaka, whose gloomy lonesome ring • ' Which breaks the solemn silence _ , , Where no other songsters sing. He's. dead. The bush is fallen, and there's dust and cyanide, And syndicates and companies, and God knows what beside. Well, it's the way of all things -you must chmb, ana climb and climb. I Anyhow, we'll yell the chorus, Waitekauri ! EVERY TIME !

The high regard in which MrChas. Grey is held in this community received practical demonstration in) the. large number of choice and valuable presents, which were showered upon him on the eve of his marriage. One of the most notable was a handsome present from the Old Chums' Association, with .which body Mr Grey has been identified, since its inception. Mr W. Mitchell, the well kxiow^ Parliamentary reporter, has recently taken up his residence in Auckland, and i s now prepared to receive a limited number of pupils for instruction in shorthand. A more competent teacher of practical shorthand it would be difficult to "find. Mr Mitchell has had 40 years' experience as a journalist, for many years he was a member of the New Zealand Hansard staff, and he was private secretary to Bir George Qfey while that gentleman was Premier of the Colony. Mr Mitchell's advfc. appears elsewhere.