Original Poetry.
’’CUE VAIiUEY.” <34 B through the vale I wend xny way, (O' The rifle’s crack afar. Proclaims our plucky Volunteers Are with the pigs at war. Such warlike language greets my ears. Unused to martial talk, The very air seems filled with bombs, Whene'er I take a walk. 3 The thoughts of plunder still prevail, 1 And deep has taken root . The notion that we all should go ( And make a “ pile” by loot. j E’en those too old to wield a gun, 1 Too worn-out far to fight, Crawl forth to puli the whares down. And loot the pa by night. i And thus it comes that every day, Each man 1 come across Enquires of me in doleful mood, “ Pray, have you seen my horse V One painful thought invades my mind. And dwells for ever there; Perchance the horse I ride may prove Seme white man’s looted mare. Should Hau-hau foes again appear. Who knows what may befall ? Th’ impression seems to he that we Shall kill and eat them all. We hope in time to do without The aid of sun or moon. Already we have “ gas" enough To fill a large balloon. Our school, too, is deserted quite. Our pedagogue gone out j And little else we do just now, hut nobblerize and spout. • J. H., Petane.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/HBT18661122.2.10
Bibliographic details
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Hawke's Bay Times, Volume 8, Issue 440, 22 November 1866, Page 3
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224Original Poetry. Hawke's Bay Times, Volume 8, Issue 440, 22 November 1866, Page 3
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