THE WAKAMARINA.

Hawke's Bay Times, Volume III, Issue 178, 10 June 1864, Page 3

THE WAKAMARINA.

Air —Twig of the Shannon. On the banks of the Wakamarina, From Nelson some thirty-two miles, A splendid gold-field’s been discovered, Where dozens are making their piles ; They work on the bars of the river, And in many a crevice, I’m told, With their knives they can pick out the nugA nice easy way to get gold. [gets, Chorus. I’m waiting for fresh information, If the gold is all there you will sea I’m off to the golden location, The Wakamarina for me. It’s affecting the City of Nelson, Provisions have gone up'in price, And servants and tradesmen have started To the gold-field, all scorning advice. Milkmen give their customers warning, They’re leaving their usual walks, And off to the Wakamarina, Old Skyblue is walking his chalks. I’m waiting for fresh information, &c. The crews all desert from the vessels, The skipper on board vainly grieves, And to help to discharge the ship’s cargo He has to turn to, in shirt sleeves. Blacksmiths and bakers get cheeky When they think of the new golden ground, And the butchers are talking of raising Pleuro to a shilling a pound. I’m waiting for fresh information, &c. The new chums start off for the diggings, But some of them never get there, When others arrive and look at it One glance sinks them into despair; No comforts they get in that quarter, For home again, oh, how they yearn ! They can’t stomach working in water, And they curse it and quickly return. I’m waiting for fresh information, Ao 1 On the road there was many a fellow That the special reporter there twigged, One new chum had got an umbrella, And in bell-topper was rigged ; And a fat cove was blown with hard walking, He made the reporter quite grin, For he fells us his swag consisted Of just a square bottle of gin!. I’m waiting for fresh information, &c. A new chum, of course very silly, And green as the foliage around, We’re told lost the run of his billy. On his journey to Tom Tiddler's ground. To find it he put down his swag there, A trick, alas! he did deplore, For hunting about for his billy, Lost his swag which he never saw more. I’m waiting for fresh information, &o This rush it will clear out Otago, Fcr passengers, ships advertize, And each steamer will bring up a cargo Of Victorian diggers, no flies, They’re the boys that can drop on the metal, And when from Dunedin they come, They’ll get all the gold from the river, And there’ll be no chance for New Chum. I’m waiting for fresh information, &o. — Thatcher.