FIGHT IN THE TOWN BOARD.

Hawke's Bay Times, Volume III, Issue 166, 18 March 1864, Page 3

FIGHT IN THE TOWN BOARD.

By Thatcher. Upon my word, a fight in the Town Board ! The Chairman of that august body floored, His honored head punched in that sacred place, The claret streaming down his worthy face ; Whils’t his poor eyes their lustre now are lacking The light of Bay, shut out by Martin’s blacking. Oh what a brush was there my countrymen ! When Johnny polished him off there and then. Is this a Chairman that I see before me ? To tell the horrid details don’t implore me. The world’s a stage, and men and women players. We all of us seem bitten by Tom Sayers. Oh that this too too solid flesh would melt: I’m far to fat to go in for the belt. To punch, or to be punched, that is the question. I thank thee gentle Jew for that suggestion. I think there he six Richmonds in the field. Die, Johnny Martin, traitor die or yield. Most potent, grave, and reverend T. B.'s., I think I’m getting cranky by degrees. Farewell the dignity of the Town Board, Your Chairman has been most ignobly floored. Can such things bo and Martin keep him under Without exciting our especial wonder? Shall Thorndon thus be laid ignobly low, And welted by the cruel Te Aro foe ? My heart bleeds for thee, luckless Wellington, Johnny, what have you been and gone and done ? What’s come unto our rulers in high places, That they disfigured one another’s faces? Has pugilism from Victoria flown here In company with this pleuro-pheumonia ? Are men, as well as cattle, now infected ? The genus homo, must that be inspected To free it from a pugilistic taint? Have wo got Dr. L. L. Smith’s complaint, V\ ho in the Assembly punched poor Wood one dayj And warmed the nut of that same M.L.A. ? The Melbourne Age had three rounds with the Herald ; Say, will our editors, too be imperilled ? Will young Bull now at Anderson get vest, And pitch into his brother journalist next ? Where will it all end when our great T. B’s. Embroil themselves in quarrels such us these? You’ve heard of Saxby who is weather-wise, Some people doubt his various prophecies I’m rather dubious if altogether His prophecies relate solely to weather, He tells of storms when it will blow r great guns, Some of his breezes may be moral ones, If so, his words have oft been verified This day he looks out for a high tide, Ho warned us of a storm some months ago On that day L. L. Smith commenced to blow, And in the Assembly blustered all he could You know the rest how he fell foul of Wood, Look out for squalls he very lately said And Johnny Martin punches Allen’s head, But bless my heart I’m wandering altogether, No more I’ll boro you talking of the weather, To hear all about the shindy you all long, I’ll tell you all about it in a Song. Air — Admiral. The Town Board sat in conclave one summer’s afternoon, The day was hot and dusty, and a breeze was quite a boon; The proud imperious Alien was seated in the chair, And Borlase, Moore, and Plimmer were all assembled therd. Then in came Mr. Horner, and with them down he sat, Then the noted Johnny Martin, with his whip and nobby hat, And Bannister, the clerk, was there to take down what they said, And never dreamt that Martin had designs on Aflen’s head.

’Bout Barber’s slaughter Louse, I’m told, some hostile words had they, And soon flat contradiction was the order of the day, They talked of prison labor, and it led unto a row, For Allen said Te Aro monopolized it now, But Martin rose up, and this charge indignantly denied, And insinuated quite politely that the Chairman lied. Hot words then followed, and some signs of war could be discerned, And after some discussion, the meeting was adjourned. Air—Bullock Creek. Borlase and Plimmer then went out, they knew there’d be a row, Borlase then says “ Let’s have a glass of beer at Downes’ now So to the “ Crown & Anchor” together they repaired, Whilst upstairs Johnny Martin at the Chairman fiercely glared. Poor Bannister, the nervous clerk, got timider by degrees, And with horror in his pbysiog, he saw thero’d be a breeze, But with his pallid countenance forbearance he implored. And the Chairman, Moore, and Martin were alone there at the Board. Aii — Hamlet. The shindy came at last, Fire from his eyes now darting, “ Your too big altogether,” Says Mr. Johnny Martin. But in replying to that The Chairman proved no laggard, For he said out plump and pat, “Don’t address me, you’re a blackguard.” Air—Sally come up. Now Johnny aims a. furious blow, The Chairman’s claret begins to flow, Ho down upon the ground does go, * He catches it so from Johnny. Martin gets him down. And he does the chairman brown, And a tune is played with his poor crown, Chorus—On the floor by Mister Johnny. “ Oh, Johnny get up, don’t hit him down,” Says Moore, as he trundled his heels around, As if he was wheeling a barrow in town, With the legs of Mister Johnny. Now the nervous Clerk is standing by, With pallid lip and tearful eye. And “ Murder” lie begins to cry, At the fierce attack of Johnny. Moore wants to get him free, “I’m a magistrate,” says he, “ What a dreadful sight for a J.P., “ Oh, d—n it, let go, Johnny.” Chorus—“ Oh Johnny,” &c. Air—Korah Creeva. Bannister rushes down the stairs, While they’re scuffling in the corner, And with terror, he sings out, “Murder! come up Mr. Horner.” What a sight there on the floor, Allen’s whiskers Johnny’s tugging, And to got him off there’s Moore, Wildly Martin’s legs he’s hugging. Air—Billy Taylor. The combatants are separated, They begin another round, “ Oh, my eyes exclaims the Chairman, And again he seeks the ground. But a blow he aims quite wildly, As upon the floor he goes. And a small bit of the bark is Peeled off Johnny Martin’s nose. Allen gets up, takes his coat off, And to shape ho then began, Johnny says, “I won’t fight with you, For you’re not a gentleman.” Horner intimates if Martin Only will give him fair play, That he’s game to back the Chairman, And his tin on him lie’ll lay. In this most disgraceful shindy, Thus the Chairman was done brown, And a pair of horrid goggles He’d to wear about the town. Town Board Members ne’er should let their Naughty, angry, passion rise, Johnny Martin’s hands weren’t made to Put in mourning Allen’s eyes. One thing puzzles me, how was it, When the shindy first began, Johnny did’nt then, discover The Chairman wasn’t a gentleman ?