MUFFINS.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 12504, 17 December 1918, Page 7

MUFFINS.

Sift 1 pint flour, 2 teaspoons baking powder, i teaspoon salt and 2 tablespoons sugar into a bowl. Beat 2 eggs light, add a generous cup of milk and stir into the dry mixture. Then add 3 tablespoons melted butter. Boat hard two or three minutes and bake in butterm! muffin pans about twenty minutes in hot oven. Makes a dozen.

THE YARN OF THE BLUE STAR LINE.

'Wbon I was & kd and went to se* la seventy-seven or six maybe. There was ten tall ships on Merseyside Did sail or berth with every tide; There' was "Hills’’ and "Halls’’ and “'Dales” and "Bens,” “Counties ” ami “Cities” and “Lochs” ; and “Glens,” ■And none was there so fast and fine As them that Bailed in the Blue Star Line.

They had tough-nut skippers as hard as nails To crack ’em along in the Capo Horn gales, And hard-xace shellbacks thirty-two There used to be in a Blue Star crew To man the capstan and raise the shout At lacks and' sheets when she want about, And brass-bound reefers eight or nine In them tall ships o’ the Blue Star Line. But Lord! the names them good ‘ ships had— , Enough to drive a plain man mad! ; The way those names' Was spelled or said 'Vd crack your jaw like Liverpool bread; There was Parthen-opo and Thucy-didea, And a whole lot more and worse beeides, And Molpo-rnene and Enphro-syne Mas the sort o’ names in the Blue Star Line.

But tbs steam come up anti the sail went •down, And them tall ships of high renown nap scrapped or wrecked or sold away To the Dutch or the Dagoes, day by day; Thoy went the way o’ the songs wo sung, And the girls wa kissed when wo all were

young, And most o’, the chips as used to sign Along with mo in the Blue Star Line. The Partnon-opo ahe met her fate Bnn down in a, fog off the Golden Gale; f n f <“0 Thucy-dides kept knocking around G.w«cn the Capo and Cardiff and Puget Sound, Till a fire in her main hold burned her down To the water's edge at- Simonstown; And none was left hut the Enphro-syne, The blooming last o' the Blue Star Lino.

There isn’t a, cargo great or small But that old booker’s carried ’em all, bor whether it’s rubber or whether ills rice Coal or copra or salt or spire, Teak or whole-oil or bone manure, Smelly guano or copper ore, Gulf ports cotton or B.C. pine- 1 - All’s one to the last o’ the Blue Star Line.

There isn’t a. tugboat far or neat Brit’s took her to sea, with. a. parting, cheer, Or picked her up off o’ Lizard Head with the nine months’ rust in her hawsepipes red; There isn’t a pilot near or far, From Gravesend Beach to Asforia Bar, On Hudson or Hooghly or Thames or Tvnc, But’a known the last o’ iho Blue Star Line,

bhe’a been up and down and here and there, But there ain’t no time for to tell von where; She’s been sunk and raised and drove ashore, A wrack and a hulk and a prize o’ war . . . But pile’s gone at iho last, as I’ve heard tell, In the' 1 Channel chops as she knowed so well, Off St Agnes Light, where a drifting mine Bono in the last o’ the Blue Star Line.

Aud it’s good to know as she took her bones, Then it come io the end, to Daw Jones With the old Bed Faster flying the same As it aid ni tb© days when she earned her fame— When ten lull ships on Merseyside Did sail or berth wi!h every tide. And none o’ them all so fast' and fine As theta (all ships o’ the Blue Star Line. C.F.S., in “Punch."