Dear Sir

Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 05, Issue 83, 27 July 1942, Page 4

Dear Sir

Letters to the Editor must be clearly written on one side of the paper only'and where a nom-de-plume is used the name of the writer must be included for reference purposes. The Editor reserves the right to abridge, " amend or withhold any letter or letters. " THE PRIMARY PRODUCER Sir,—Our farming community has been having for the last few seasons an intellectual turn of high class turns in agricultural and pastural acrobatics. Our latest turn is from cheese back to butter again. Well, well, well ! ! these are surely funny times and these are the rhymes of the times/ Higgledy, Piggledy my black lien. * She lays eggs for gentlemen Gentlemen come every day To count Avhat my black hen doth lay If per chance she lays too many, They fine my hen a pretty penny, If per chance she fails to lay, The gentlemen a bonus pay. Mumbledy, Pumbledy my red cow, She's co-operating now. At first she didn't understand That milk production must be planned She didn't understand at first, She either had to milk or burst. But now the' Government reports, She's giving pints instead of quarts. Fiddle-de-dee, Fiddle-de-dee, all my neighbours They are giggling at their labours. First they plant the tiny seed, Then they water, then they weed. Then they hoe and prune and lop And they raise a record crop. Then they laugh their sides asundei And plough the whole caboodle under. Abracadabra, Abracadbra thus we learn, The more you make, the less you earn, The less you earn, the more you're given The less you lead, the more you're driven. The more destroyed, the more they feed, The more you pay, the more they need: The more you earn, the less you keep The more they govern, the more you weep. The Irish farmer may see the joke against himself, the Scottish farmer may see it in time but the New Zealand farmer, when will he wake up t Yours etc., W. BRADSHAW.