Banjo Song of Dunedin Lasses.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XL, Issue 22, 27 May 1908, Page 65

Banjo Song of Dunedin Lasses.

The girls tnat come from Auckland Have faces pale and proud, With eyes of summer lightning, And brows of summer cloud, And Auckland girls are stately, And Auckland girls are gay— But it’s not the girls of Auckland I’m thinking of to-day.

Oh, lassies of Dunedin! Your eyes are just as bright; They glow with happy beauty, They shine with softer light; And, lassies of Dunedin, The gentle southern sun Has touched you cheeks with coloui Of blushes half-begun!

In Wellington are ladies Not lacking queen-like graceFor poise of head and shoulders, And clear, wind-freshened face— Full-breasted like an empress, With straight limbs swinging free— Yet little is the heart-call Of Wellington for me.

Oh, lassies of Dunedin, Through all your veins there thrills A blood made warm with climbing The stiff Dunedin hills! Therefore no city’s women Can match your necks and hips, There are no lips to challenge The freshness of your lips.

The girls that live in Christchurch Have glorious waving hair, And some are dark and regal, And some are sweet and fair; And Christchurch girls are merry, And Christchurch girls are bright, But it’s not a Christchurch maiden I’m wishing for to-night.

Oh, lassies of Dunedin, Your laughter runs like gold. For you, the joy of living, And hearts that grow not old. To lightsome tunes are beating The staunch, good hearts of you; And, lassies of Dunedin, Your lips and hearts are true!

For we have gone by Roslyn, And over Maori Hill, And by the hawthorn hedges That lead to Roslyn Mill, And elimbed to Cargill’s Castle A long December day. And the lassies of Dunedin Went singing all the way.

Oh, lassies of Dunedin, I hear your laughter yet, The elder days are calling, And I shall not forget. Oh, home of silvery laughter? Oh, house of honest speech! To you come all contentment. And one true heart to each!

How through the winter gaslight, Along the snow-hushed street, We went to merry dances With gracious girls and sweet! How, girt in dainty vesture And filled* with warm delight, The lassies of Dunedin Waltzed through the winter night!

Oh, lassies of Dunedin! When shall I see again The tender eyes I once saw Like bush new-washed with rain, Whatever land I come to, Whatever doom I dree, It’s one Dunedin lassie That holds the heart of mo! —T.P., in the “Bulletin.’’ Maorilaud.