RATHER OUT OF SEASON.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XIV, Issue VII, 16 February 1895, Page 168

RATHER OUT OF SEASON.

She had come up to town for the Cattle Show week, Not to gaze at the cattle, but pleasure to seek ; And she was not afraid Of the men, though a maid, For she’d worn off the first blush of youth, so to speak ; And a sharpness of visage and redness of beak Nicely suited a voice that was mostly a squeak ; And her teeth and her hair Were a bit out of wear, So that really of beauty she hadn’t a streak ; And although not so ancient as Latin and Greek, It is certain she bordered upon the antique. She was not this season’s goods. She arrived at the station at noon by the clocks, And she carried no trunk, no portmanteau, or box ; But she had, all the same, A huge hamper of game, Where she’d hidden her cash, and her very best frocks. And, when she observed citizens passing in flocks, She said, ‘ Oh'.’ like the girls viewing fireworks from Brock’s; But she saw, by good luck, A young man with a truck. His apparel had suffered from many hard knocks ; And his boots, being stranded, and right on the rocks, Gave the office away that he didn’t wear socks, They were not this season’s goods. On his truck he’d some hampers, a rather odd set, But our heroine noticed a space there to let; And she thought she would grab At the chance, as a cab Seemed a sheer waste of coin, as she’d only to get To the opposite station—the one on the ‘ Met And economy ne’er ruined anvone yet. So she signalled his nibs By a dig in the ribs : And, convinced he could do with the price of a wet, She attracted the fish safely home to her net With a threepenny piece—and, you’ll learn with regret, It was not this season’s goods. Still, a loaf that is snide’s better biz than no bread, Was the notion that entered the gentleman’s head : So the hamper was thrown On the trucks with his own, And he carted it over, but she was misled ; For, when he had departed, she noticed with dread That he’d changed it for one of his own lot instead ; And she breathed a sad sigh. When she found by-and bye, That it held half a brick, an assortment of lead, And a cat which, although only recently dead, Seemed to wink its off eye in a manner that said, * I am not this season’s goods !' Doss Chiderdoss.