A SONG OF SIXPENCE

Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 8, Issue 7, 12 September 1944, Page 8

A SONG OF SIXPENCE

It was. made at the Mint — Where millions are melted — Where various metals — From Mother earth smelted— Arc converted into — Tlie commodity cash— With which a few soar— Without which many crash. I too t have experienced— Life's ups and downs.— I've rubbed shoulders with pennies— With sovereigns and crowns. I have passed through the hands. Of the rich and the poor— And travelled afar — Both at sea and ashore. From Ceylon and China— With spices and teas. —> From the Antipodes. I have jingled in pockets— At Eton and Harrow— And rumbled around— With Bill Higgins barrow. I was once in a till— With a threepenny bit— And six brand new pennies— Who thought they were "It." Little Joey exclaimed— Don't it make you feel hot? Not me I retorted: — For I'm worth the lot. My head is worn thin! And my tails: out of print; Soon they'll be sending me Back to the Mint.; Where old timers like me — Await melting down; For a threepenny bit— Or a brand new halfcrown— To mingle once more — In the dash and the crash— Of that strenuous existence — The life of hard cash. H. SERGANT.