THE ‘GENERAL.'
She dwells below, alone, afar. The kitchen hearth her base of war, Whence, skilled in sudden escalade, She plies her devastating trade. With bristling broom, and cap awry, She sallies out to break or die ; And all men hear with bated breath The coming of Elizabeth.
Why sits and nods without a chin Our china god from far Pekin ? Why stays our clock of ormolu, Persistent stuck at half-past two ? And wherefore went to feed the flames The epic meant to fire the Thames ? 1 Twas pussy’s fault,’ the story saith— The story of Elizalieth.
But soon from havoc and affray Our * general ’ must turn away, Outgeneralled at last, I wist, By an acuter strategist. For Cupid, apt to plot and plan, Assisted by the baker’s man, Hath deftly made, so rumour saith, A captive of Elizabeth. The First-floor Lodger
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/NZGRAP18950105.2.48.2
Bibliographic details
New Zealand Graphic, Volume XIV, Issue I, 5 January 1895, Page 24
Word Count
142THE ‘GENERAL.' New Zealand Graphic, Volume XIV, Issue I, 5 January 1895, Page 24
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Acknowledgements
This material was digitised in partnership with Auckland Libraries. You can find high resolution images on Kura Heritage Collections Online.
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