Lines to the Editor.

Kawhia Settler and Raglan Advertiser, Volume IV, Issue 365, 12 June 1908, Page 2

Lines to the Editor.

Who is your correspondent Who writes from Oparau ? Whone’r I read his cheery notes The clouds clear from my brow. I like to smoke my old clay pipe And read them o’er again, The words he writes of all these thing* In optimistic strain. He talks of India-rubber trees And coal mines galore, And groves and rows of letaon trees Before each settler’s door. But when I go to Oparau I only see the store, And miles of fern and ti-tree Upon each spur and ridge, And Wrighu’s new sawmi’l Just across the Okupata Bridge, also talks of sheep and grass So plentiful and nice ; I really thought that Oparau Must be a Paradise. But when you go to see them You find there's been mistakes, For the cattle looked a hungry lot And all ths sheep are rakes. He speaks about the sawmill there And the timber on the land, But all the timer I saw cat You could carry in your hand. There must be something missing In all these prospects fair; Or have the India-rubber trees Just sprung into the air ? And have the coal mines disappeared Right underneath the ground ? And all this trumpeting I hear Just so much empty sound ■ Oh, he should be a Scotchman oute, He would not caution lack; I wish he was a " Sandy,” No, I prefer a *’ Mac.” I know, dear Mr Editor, You can't divulge his name. But it seems sad that such a man Should hide himself from fame. I really think a halo should sit upon the brow Of that brave correspondent Who hails from Oparau. —Boiled Mutton Bill,