FLIGHTS AMONGST THE FLAX.

Evening Star, Volume VII, Issue 1931, 14 July 1869, Page 3

FLIGHTS AMONGST THE FLAX.

“ Promises are like pie-crusts, made to be broken. "-T upper. None of > our classical quotations for me. Homer, Horace, and Virgil, are very well in their way ; hut for good, sound common sense, commend me to “ (upper.” Whenever my m nd feels exhausted from over-ex-ertion, I drink from the fountain of Tupperian philosophy, and it immediately regains its wonted vigor. The conception of such a sublime truth as “ Promises are like pie-crusts, &c.,” would alone be sufficient to stamp Martin F. Tupper as the most profound thinker of our age. And now to the point. You may remember, my friend, Avhen you and 1 had the last chat together, I made a voav before the shrine of Bacchus to retire from the “world of letters ” for a considerable time. W ell, Sir, I haA*e broken that voav, but Avhen I explain to you the very potent reason 1 had for so doing, you will thankfully explain, Esto Ferpetua. By the last mail I receiA r ed a long letter from my dear old friend, John Bull. Iu it after the usual preliminary burst of affection—the following passage occurs : - “ Now, Old Fellow, you must let me know the true state of affairs in New Zealand. _ I am continually bothered by those prevaricating fellows at Wellington ; some of them want troops, and others do not. Now, Tom, my boy, tell me what I had best do ; a man I can depend upon, etc., etc., etc. ” Well, Sir, as I know all the “ins and outs’ of Government (Fox wanted me to join his Cabinet), I could not refuse Old Jack a little information ; so on the spur of the moment I penned him the following lines: — ODE, TO JOHN BULL, ESQ. [A Lay that was lay'd aside, ami consequently was too lay'te for the English Mail via Gallt, which is very galling.] Tune John Anderson my Joe !" John Bull it is no go, John, We must get soldiers here ; For many a gallant fellow, John, Is still laid on his beer : They talk about a loan, John, To quell the savage foe ; Alone we cannot put him down, — John Bull, it is no go. John Bull, it is no go, John, Tc Kooti is not dead; Though fifty times at least, John, They have chop'd off his head : Existence he has steak'd- John, A thousand times or so ; Yet still his leys bring him a round, — John Bull, it is no go. John Bull, it is no go, John, Those Maoris are game-cocks; They will not fly nor (urn , John, Though twisted by a Fox : Hoysheaded they may be. John, But still their spirits Aoav ; Bright as the barrels of their guns,— John Bull, it is no go. John Bull, it is no go, John, Our men were much at fault, in Not striking home at first, John, They have had too much Haultain : If we had stopped his raving, John, The fowl black would not crow; But now Hau-hau, he laughs at us, — John Bull, it is no go. John Bull, it is no go, John, Though Stafford's famed for del/; To Weld the broken peace, John, His reliance was all self: Our sugar-bowl he emptied, John, Whilst the po(o)rslain lay low ; Wo lowfd him out the wicket man, — Joh Bull, it is no go. John Bull, it is no go, John, We have tried every plan ; Though not a Whit-more forward, John, Than when we first began : You know we’re In arrear, John, Though to the front we go ; Such treatment is a rare affront. — John Bull, it is no go. John Bull, it is no go, John, Of course it’s very fine. To do without an army, John, *■ On this side of the line ; Our service to the Throne, John, Is regular, you know ; You serve us ill, you’ve thrown us off, — John Bull, it is no go. Tom Tallfer.v. Dunedin, 10th July.