OUR BOYS!

Wairarapa Daily Times, 17 December 1932, Page 5

OUR BOYS!

PRACTICAL POETRY AND SONG. (To the Editor). Sir, —One seldom takes up a new spaper in the present day without linding something about the unemployment of boys. Practical poetry, or, more correctly speaking, verses with a maxim, set to a good tune, might do much towards helping boys along the journey of life. We know that song can imd its way to the heart as speech never can. But the unemployment of boys is no new experience in the world’s history. In Scotland, more than half a venture ago, this state of affairs was • so acute that it found expression in a popular song, the refrain of which -was: • What shall we do with our boys? For times are so bad They are driving us mad— Oh! What shall we do with our boys?’’ The problem was solved by most of a the boys going to till the undeveloped •4®fcie,res in Canada, while a few found professions and trades there, too. Their ■Scotch upbringing, on porridge, and the •Shorter Catechism, made good pioneers of them. Here in New Zealand, with its thousands of undeveloped acres, .snrelv employment could be found foi -•our boys,” and so keep them in their own country. But, unfortunately, -•"Put vour shoulder to the wheel, a -motto for every man,’ 1 ’ is not a popular song nowadays. Here is a story of a certain Tommy 7)odd, who had just left school. He was rejoicing in being free from academic thraldom, and looking forward to 'launching into the realities of life on "his own. Tie was giving vent to Ins . -feelings by singing from an old song's • wants are small, but I care not at all, If my debts are paid when due. 7 drive away strife on the ocean of life, And I paddle my own canoe.” -•‘Don’t sing that,” advised a liighfriend', but Tommy went on: love your neighbour as yourself, 1 The world you go travelling through, And never sit down with a tear oi a frown, • But paddle your own canoe. “Your teacher would not have liked -that,” said the friend. “Is it sinful?” asked the boy. “Mv dear,” replied the highbrow, ■“it. is*worse than sinful. It is vulgar, it is not poetry, and I tell you it is not done in the present day.” So Tommy changed to another old -song: “When laws can stop the blades . of grass from growing as they grow; And when the flowers in summer time their colours dare not show.”

“Come! Shut up! That will do,” •said the highbrow. . “Well,” exclaimed Tommy, “I think It. is you who are vulgar this time,’ ;a nd he went whistling away to his work In the backblocks, where he was prepared to find “Sermons in stories and hooks in the running brooks.” There is a picture worth remembering, entitled “The genius of poetry grinding Burns at the plough.” Here poet is depicted holding his plough, by two horses, while an ethereal is gliding nearby. Of course, all on the land could not expect to an experience like this; but one ■ Hug is certain, that beautiful thoughts would be more likely to " come while working in the pure atmosphere of the country than in almost any employment in crowded cities. And the boys who would like to add B.A. to their name, as well as rearing baa’s, could avail themselves of correspondence schools, when their evenings would be more profitably spent than by frequenting some of the entertainments m trie •towns. ~ „ ~ . Sir Walter Scott said: “Better to labour than sport. ’ ’ But if boys cortld find! sport in pioneering work, with ■some achievement in view, it would put bright colour into the drab idea ot having to go to the backblocks. Before machinery, -with its perpetual •din became, so common, singing was a general accompaniment to work, especially in the country. Indeed, it made work a joy. Schumann must have observed this in •Germany when he ' wrote his little piano piece. The Merrv Feasant.” Then, m Scotland, it was beautiful both to see and hear the harAters singing to the rhythm ot the scytWs. Sometimes there were five m .-a‘slanting row, with a procession ot -eapers behind, and all joined m singing? Again, what would our sailors in •the sailing ship days, have done wßh•out their sea songs or shanties. 1 -the early moriiing their singing used to almost compel passengers to join i » from their cabins. And m the Great War it was singing that cheered our boys under awful experiences. Indeed, ‘ on e could go on writing on tins subject "ad infinitum,” but it might be trespassing on space, so here is a practical rhyme in conclusion: “There are thousands who tell you it cannot be done, There are thousands who prophesy iailure. . ’ , . There are thousands to point out to you, one by one, The ‘dangers that wait to assail you. But. just buckle in with a bit of a grin, .lust'take off your coat and go to it; .Just start in to sing as you tackle trie thing ~ That cannot be done —and you 11 do it. I am, etc., J.M. M One of the Old School. Mast Won, 17th December.