A CANTERBURY SONG BY A CANTERBURY PILGRIM.

Wairarapa Standard, Volume I, Issue 6, 9 February 1867, Page 4

A CANTERBURY SONG BY A CANTERBURY PILGRIM.

There’s lamentations, grief, and woe, In Canterbury city, For Fitz the great is sick and slow , Compell’d to change his ditty, Dame Stafford has become his nurse, And hound him in a roller, And to prevent his getting worse Has made him Chief Comptroller Don’t fret ye Canterbury folks, Nor shew a golden locket, ■Great men find out that eggs have yolks, When sick, and low in pocket, And if the great become so sick, They can’t withstand temptation, These men are much prepared by tick. To fill a situation. •Besides, when men’s affairs, its clear, Are famt with sickly sorrow, Eight hundred pounds, in gold, a year. Will cure disease to-morrow. With such a good Colonial nurse, Like patience on a steeple, There’s cure-all in a public purse. Provided by the people. Long may this Colony be hies s'd. With seats for sickly glory, May nurses have a medicine chest, And put their cures in story. May Stafford’s pills, bought by a loan, Cure all the broken hearted, What matters if the people groan, And Stamp Act tax “ departed.” ■So let it be ’till common sense Invades the peoples’ noddles, Let wild corruption gifts, dispense, Where’er a great man toddles; But men who pay may be spared, So long as they will stand it, Great men, like Fitz, will be allured, And as for Fame —he’s danced it.—Wandering Minstrel.