[By a Dyspeptic.]
This world must be surely approaching its end,
I constantly look at the sky,
And at the least sign am prepared to ascend
To realms of the sweet by and bye.
In politics soon there will be a great crash,
For property's not worth a pin,
And everything round is denoting a smash
Since Labor ten members got in.
So here is my gold I'll loosen my hold,
I'm off from this region of woe ;
On a harp I will play and drive care away
For Labor will be down below.
I am fond of the coin, but I'm not an ass,
As you may perceive by these rhymes,
But what will result if we fortunes amass
In these revolutionary times ?
The money I've made since I came to these shores
On annual deposit I placed,
When lo ! my safe bank madly closes its doors,
And now by my tradesmen I'm chased.
I'll quit all these things, so hand me my wings,
I'm off from this region of cranks,
Where the member for Labor won't be my next neighbor,
And where there's no bursting of banks.
Notes
From the Adelaide Newspaper The Quiz and the Lantern 5 May 1893 Page 13.
Top