O CALEDONIA

Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 6, Issue 62, 6 April 1943, Page 5

O CALEDONIA

STERN AND WILD

A SOLDIER'S POEM

Printed below is a poem, appear-* hig in Kiwi, the Forces newspaper in the Pacific. The author is A. S.. Helj r and the poem is Accredited as previously appearing in 'Haggis.' Well-known to those associated with the Adult Educational Move-, mcnt before the. war, the author began an academic carer in the early '30's when he first joined the mov&-» mcnt as a student. Later he was awarded a University bursary and passejrt the majority of subjects for both a Commerce and an Arts ,de-» gree. He was then appointed as tutor-organiser to the Workers' Educational Association in Palirferston North, to which town he moved with his wife and two children. Mr Hely was a seaman in lite youth and. during much of his unversity career (which fell in the depression years) was unemployed or eking out a pre-< carious existence with temporary jobs of many descriptions. The humorous side of life was not then and has not since been lost on him, as he adds active, service overseas to his list of adventures, academic and otherwise., ' We're in the "Islands of the ble?t" Where soft the 'trade winds blow, And all the fruits of Eden In wild profusion grow; Where mangoes ripe fall in your lap And milk and' honey flow; Where all the girls are glamorous Just like a Broadway show. You say you don't believe it's true? II swear it must be so! You read it. in the papers, And after all . . . they know! We do not get our fruit from trees . . .i It comes in tins instead. We find the "night life" interesting, Mosquitoes round our head, And bullfrogs croaking through the night And bull-ants in our , The water full of gnats and. bugs And weevils in the bread, And goddam, awful endless rain— We Avish that we were dead. Yet still we live in paradise! . . . That's what the papers said. The surf may croon upon the reef, But sandflies whine ashore; We bathe 1 within the still lagoon But sea-snakes, use it more. Here every tropic slirub and vi-ijp Doth scratch us red and raw, And big, black blowflies come in swarms Around the cookhouse door. Its called "Pacific Paradise'" (The printed-word is law), But we agree this is no place To fight a bleeding war.