The Question.

Star (Christchurch), Volume XLIV, Issue 145, 20 June 1931, Page 18 (Supplement)

The Question.

(Original.) I’se got a burning question—’fact it’s fuming me all up, I wish dat you could answer it for me. Tell me how Jack Frost can get here long before the sun is up, ’Cos I’se neber s6en his ship come from the sea. He hasn’t got a bike or twike, I’se very nearly sure, A “ puffer ” or a mo’-car or a horse, And I’se vewy, vewy certain that he wouldn’t come on skates, ’Cos he’d have to get the ice made first, ob course! I’se thinked ob nearly evewything—of all the things that sail, Ob all the things dat run along the ground; It’s hard to be a ’tective when you hab to go to bed, And the only clue I’se got’s a buzzy sound. I hear it ebery frosty night, it sounds jes’ like a bird, A bird?—Oh! Oh! I know!—an airy plane! You didn’t hab to answer me, my burning question’s gone, It’s gone out like a fire in the rain. Gladys Levy. (This is the prize poem this week.)