AEROPLANE MAD.

Observer, Volume XXIX, Issue 46, 31 July 1909, Page 23

AEROPLANE MAD.

A TOPICAL EFFUSION.

Oh, prop some ice upon my head, And raise my pillows high ; Tho' feeling weak, I needs' t must speak Before I go and die. Affliction sore long time I bore — But, ah ! 'twas all in vain. For this, I know, has laid me low, This one. word " Aeroplane." The cables in the daily Press They rave about each flight That's taken by that gentleman Who's known as Wilbur Wright. Of Zeppelin and of Bleriot, too, They rave with might and main, The universe is 'neath a curse — The v curse of " Aeroplane." We're told how someone made a flight From London to the States In fifteen minutes by the clock — Of this the Press Ass. prates. But then there comes a wire next day To give this yarn the lie, And say 'tis vain across the main To Yankeeland to fly. And then again the cables tell How someone swiftly flew From Paris J*> South Africa And back by Timbuctoo. From Petersburg to Mandalay, From Brussels down to Rome, From Stockholm out and round about Then via Fiji home. Each chap who builds an aeroplane Explains that his is best ; He says he'll prove by practice that It eas'iy beats the rest. And then he mounts his weird machine, And, seated high on deck. He sails away, and looks quite gay Until he breaks his neck. And other cheerful idiots sit And argue day and night, Each has his own pet theory And swears that he is right. Each in his own back yard has built A model aeroplane ; And each can show it ought to go, Altho' he's tried in vain. Oh, ev'ry paper that you buy Has columns by the score, How France has bought some aeroplaneSj And Britain's buying more. How Germany has organised A mighty, aerial flight — Her fleet of boats, they tell us, floats O'er London ev'ry night. And now this epidemic has Invaded our. Dominion, And ev'ry second chap you meet Will give you his opinion Of how to solve the problem of This aerial navigation, ■ With words profuse he airs his views In miles of explanation. At 'Clutha, where the climate's dry, They've had an awful scare, Mysterious lights are hovering Upon the midnight air. As 'Clutha's a No-license place, You must admit 'tis clear _ It isn't right to say this sight Is caused thro' too much beer. A theory I would put forth The reason to discover Why over 'Clutha' s barren shore x An aeroplane should hover. An enterprising brewing firm : . May. hisive,; for $11 yre kn6w> - ? - L . r '■'. 1/Ekt^lMh^.vthf^iii) in .the \afc;. ■■:■' : --y.

If this is so, no doubt we'll soon Get news that in Waihi Each night some most mysterious lights Above them they can see. Ashburton folk will have the same Experience ; and, no doubt, The people too in Oamaru Will see those lights about. Already in this land of cranks We've aviators many, Whor e building model aeroplanes, And spending their last penny Ln taking Home their pet machines Their powers to demonstrate. Repentance may be theirs some dayIt p'raps may come too late. Says Jones to you : "I say, old man, • ' I pray you come with me, I've built a model aeroplane That you must really Bee. Don't talk to me of Wilbur Wright. With me he can't compete, The ship I've got can beat the lot, And fame is at my feet !" You enter into Jones' back yard And see a weird machine, That's made of putty, tacks and glue, With canvas stretched between. Says Jones ; " You stand and watch, dear boy, You'll see me do a glide." You answer : " Jones, please mind your bones, And don't court suicide." But Jones is on his hobby horse, He gives it one hard shove, And off he goes — or thinks he does — To seek the realms above. But ere he's glided many yards, He gets a bitter blow At finding that he's lying flat Upon the earth below. And sundry damage he has done, For when to earth he fell, Besides himself, he brought to ground The weekly wash as well. And while he grovels in the mud, And counts his broken bones, He gets a time that ain't sublime From angry Mrs Jones. Tho' in the hospital he lies For many a weary week, When he comes out, he goes off straight More aerial flights to seek. And still he'll boldly persevere, And other models build. In search of fame he'll play the game Until, perchance, he's killed. And such a fearful state of things A most unpleasant sight is. 'Tis plain we've got a new disease That's known as " Aeroitis." Yes, ev'ry second man you meet Is cudgelling his brains, And trying to bring the latest thing To light in Aeroplanes.

Among the members of Oscar Asche's Company now playing in Melbourne is It. F. Anson, a son of ,Gr. W. Anson, the old colonial favourite. G.W. himself is at present ap- . pearing with Sir H. Beerbohm Tree, in the " School for Scandal," at His Majesty's Theatre, Lorido.n. ' He'd had bronchitis several ttmei, HU doctors ordered " Warmer climes." But then, alas, the man was poor, / • Or he'd have none away before. . •' J)o this, do that." *tis easily natrt, : But popr men have to c*m their bread, Thanks bo, they may become secare 'Gainst coußhs and colds by Woods' Pbppbb*