Poetry.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 43, 18 November 1871, Page 17

Poetry.

THE PARLIAMENT OF 1871. Anna virumque cano. —Vino. The session being moribund, I’ll seize upon • the time About the members of the House to perpetrate a rhyme, And, running down the list of these our NOBLE SEVENTY-EIGHT, Their salient points of character and weaknesses will state. And taking them in order due, the Speaker first must come—- “ Speaker ” well named, as full of sound and empty as a drum ; Withal, a perfect gentleman, whose bands become him well, Though members often grumble at “ that everlasting Bell.” Then Andrew comes from Wairarap’, who could not rest until He carried through the House his little Vaccination Bill; And Bathgate, who’s a Major, and, with spectacles in hand, Lays down the law on everything he does'nt understand ; And Bradshaw, who’s a treasurer, and nat’rally, I think, Keeps one hand in his pocket and rattles up “ the chink.” Next Brandon.- comes, with aspect grave— l might have said severe, — To whom the Married Women’s Bill was wonderfully dear; And next, a little man who has on Ministers a “ down Who’s well known in the lobbies —Mr Tuapeka Brown ; And dapper Brown, of Ashley, who, whiskers, eyes, and suit Is wonderfully brown—in fact, he’s brown from head to foot. And Bryce, whom to pat on the back I’ll do my little “ can,” He’s a quiet, unassuming, inoffensive, honest, man. Then Bijnny, who in Ministers doth constantly rejoice In resonant and cheerful tones, with a tremendous voice ; And Calder, the lugubrious, with slow and careful speech, Who should have been a minister—l’m certain he could preach; And Cantrell, who deserves some thanks — he never speaks at all, But thinks we’re going to the j well, let us say the wall. And Carrington, a pleasant man, a friendly, and a sane, Although he suffers slightly from a harbor on the brain ; Then Clark, who comes from Franklyn, and at least deserves a cheer For his comforting assurance “ It’s a’ richt mon, we’re a’ here And Collins who in sneering is an adept; but of wit, Though he thinks he has a wondrous stock, has not “ a little bit." Creighton comes next —retrenchment and free trade his standing dish, Yet wants a heavy bonus and protection for his fish. Next Curtis, pleasant speaker, a safe Opposition vote, Who shuts his eyes, and makes as there were something in his throat. And Eyes, who’s an ex-Super, and no doubt superior man, Because he’s scarcely spoken since the session first began. And Fabnall with his eye-glass; very useful I’ll be bound Since it spied oat for his district only Sixty Thousand pound. Fitzherbert ! oh, the canny! he deserves a special verse, His cunning and his cleverness correctly to rehearse. But here my Muse deserts me, for his half-a-million pill She confesses is a trifle that’s too clever for her skill. Then Fox, whose prime ideas as Prime Minister appear To be in the direction of the stopping people’s beer. Then .Gtllies, Thomas Bannatyne, as savage as a bear With everybody, everything in earth, and sea, and air. And Gtsborne, bluff and hearty, who is gifted with the grace Of bearing endless worry with imperturbable face. And Hall, sharp, keen, and diligent,—was never known to shirk His party, or his principles, his duty, or his work. And Harrison from G-reymouth, with his neatly shaven chin, Speaks well, and has some common sense his cranium within. And Haughton, Bully's master —you could almost bet a crown He’d rejoice ju9t like a schoolboy at the cry of “ knuckle down.” Indeed, each time I see him I wonder more and more How on earth it ever happened that he doffed the pinafore. And Henderson the ponderous, who seldom speaks, but then Speaks sensibly, a rarity amongst the speaking , men.

And Hunter of the placid mien, yet hath a little ire. Though provocation great it needs to set that Thames a-fire. And knickerbocker Ingles, who’s a whip en amateur, A. great man in one way, and in liis dress a “ perfect cure j”

An officer past, present, and expectant, but I’ve fears That he won't get a commission in the Rifle Volunteers. And Johnston with two W’s, of whom ’tis fair to tell, That though he’s seldom spoken, yet he’s always spoken well. And Karslaice, little Karslake, he’s a gentleman, but still It really must be stated he is singularly shrill. And Katenb, a Maori,who right-well deserves his place, Intelligent and thoughtful, and a credit to his race. 'T. Kelly, Taranaki, tare-an-’ound3 I wish he’d speak Just a trifle more distinctly, though his voice is rather weak ; It’s scarcely to be wondered at —I wonder he survives Petitions by the hundred that would end a dozen lives. And Kelly with a W.—an Irishman I note, Whe, “ be jabers, would be happy if you’d tread upon his coat.” And Kenny, with four prefixes, C.W.A.T., That brings to mind quot homines ( et) tot sent entice And Lightband, cool and sensible ; MacANDREW follows next, Who talks all round the compass, with “ Macandrew ” for his text. M‘Glashan, E., of shrewdness who has certainly no lack, And whose first article of creed is faith in t'other Mac. M‘Gi IjLiVRAY, who solemnly whate’er he saith lays down, And, to complete him, only wants a pulpit and a gown. Next, Makarini, D. M’Lean, who loves the natives well, | The value of whose services ’tis very hard to tell; A man whom everybody likes ; but, may 1 venture that He ought to have a “ mere,” and he ought to wear a mat. Then G. M'Lean, of Waikouait’, who always wears a smiie, And talks and smiles, and smiles and talks, in very funny style. Next, the elastic man M‘Leod, the member for the Bays, Who jumped into existence, and goes jumping all his days. Magpherson, J., a soldier, who but seldom wastes his breath ; And Meryyn who, some day, will sure “ divide” himself to death. Then J. Munro, a silent man, of whom I little know, Except that he’s despondent and his name is J. Munro. And Murray of soprano tones “ a voice and nothing more,” Who can turn out Constitutions by the dozen —ay the score. O’Conor the O’Conor I’ll be sorry when he’s gone Who calls himself an Irish King, and the O’Conor Don O’Neill of hesitating speech, a sound wellmeaning man, And Ormond who appears to say as little as he can. O’Borke who in committee sits beneath the Speaker’s chair, And when anyone wants snubbing is most certainly “ all there.” Parata next, a well built man, who always voted right, But would be an ugly customer to challenge to a fight, And Parker of the velvet coat of whom there’s nought to vote Save that his name is Parker, and he wears a velvet coat, And Parker Charles who from his seat has turned Sir David out Though whether he can fill it is just open to a doubt. • And Peacock who’s from Lyttelton, and has the father been Of a little Bill intituled “The Agricult’ral Lien,” And Pearce of solemn visage with his neat arranged cravat His Reply to the Address and unexceptionable hat And Reeves, elect of Selwyn, who has worked with might and main To get his little ninepence on the hundred pounds of grain And Reid who like a terrier is quick and sharp and keen And thinks the sqatters rats that ought to be his teeth between I guess he’d shake ’em rather and perhaps t’would serve ’em right And if he did’nt kill em’ that they’d got a mortal fright And Reynolds — Cave cavern ! who is always to the fore To pounce upon the people who too often take the floor He’s right well up in procodents—looks out with keenest eyes Lest some “ wretched little swindle” take the members by surprise And Rhodes from Akaroa, who one speech has only made. In urging that his railway o’er the mountains be surveyed. And Richardson, of Christchurch, with a clear and business head. And t’other Richardson—of whom there’s nothing to be said. And Rolleston, dismal Rolleston, whoso countenance would suit, (And eke his ways), the billet of an undertaker’s mute. And Shephard, J., of Nelson, calm and thoughtful, speaking well, Though he doesn’t try to make himself appear a bloated swell, And Shepherd, “ Oh, the smiler ”! who his pleasant watch doth keep, 1

O’er the ladies in the gallery, his dear, his chosen sheep. And Stafford —now I’ll wipe my pen, and treat him with respect, Although the House, his talents great, has chosen to neglect. No doubt he’s rather clever, but no doubt lie’s rather slow; Or he’d have played a better game, and not been treated so. I believe he’s quite astounded, and disgusted too to boot: That the heaven-born legislator for the country didn't suit. And now t’is mine how he became a haunted man to sing, By aMONSTER that unwittingly he tookbeneath his wing, T’was made of bits of paper, that were better in the fire. And telegraphic messages, upon a frame of wire, (T’was in the figure of a man—if I the picture drew, The features of a B—it—n would I think appear to view,) And presently it moved —it spoke—it wagged its heavy head, And “ Evidence! more Evidence !!” were all the words it said, And evidence came pouring in from North, East, West, and South : Still “Evidence! more Evidence!!” was ever in its mouth. It stretched its wiry fingers, and it pointed to the Bluff, To Tuapeka, to the Sea, and would not cry “ Enough,” It gathered ’neath its awful power, ten more unhappy men, And when the ten would sit on it, it sat upon the ten. It haunted all the passages, it followed at their heels, It stood beside those luckless men where’er they took their meals. And, gathered round’ the festive board, they scarcely dared look up Lest the monster put his finger in the platter and the cup. And sleep forsook their eyelids while they tossed the weary head. For the dreadful thing stood evermore beside each member’s bed. And thus for ninety days prevailed the spell, and in their ire, Those members cursed, with curses deep, that awful thing of wire. Then oh what joy ! it shrunk, it bent, it fell upon its side And, by the grace of Providence, at last— at last it died. Then with a shout the ten arose, and Stafford led the van, And crushed to thousand fragments that weird image of a man. But long will they remember ; will they tell from sire to son, The Erankenstin that Stafford raised in Eighteen-seventy-one. Next Sxudholme comes, who always gave a straight consistent vote Indeed, it can’t be said that he has ever turned his coat. And Steward, who for harbor works is always fain to fight, And who, I do believe, believes that his belief is right. He’s great upon that Chinee , and it’s confidently said, That he means to set the fashion with a pigtail on his head. Then Swanson, not a polished man, but sensible and sound An honester than whom is not within the Chamber found. And H. K. Taiaroa, who expects a regal throne, And claims the Middle Island for a kingdom of his own. And then Karaitiana Takamoana— his name Is long enough to make a line, and there I leave the same. And Thompson from the Clutha, who’s a Scotchman—there’s no doubt. Though he scarcely need have told us, for we might have found it out And Tribe, who is an editor, who cometh from the West, And to support the Ministry hath done his “ level best.” And Yogel —Now oh Muse of mine, thy sweeping pinions plume. Ere thou the task of Julian song dost Venture to assume, Sing how for thrice ten hundred pounds he took a journey home, And travelled like a conqueror with captives back to Rome. (“Rome” means New Zealand, here I hint) and Rome will soon grow rich— That is, if Rome avoids a grave in Speculation’s ditch. “ Hope lighteth all”; let’s hope the best, and cheer with Hip ! Hip ! Hip! Although some people tell us there’s a Jonah in che ship. Next Wakefield, Edward Jerningham, th q people's chosen man, Who’s gone back to the people on a most eccentric plan, And Boanerges Webster, who laugheth loud and long, And on sheep and cattle questions speaks in accents deep and strong ,- And White, of Hokitika, who if he had tried in time, Would have made a splendid actor for a Christmas pantomime ; And Williamson of Auckland, with his deep and solemn tones, Suggestive of the churchyard, the charnelhouse, and bones; And Reader Wood of pleasant speech, whose grammar’s always right, And who has also always been a true-blue Staffordite. Last comes the Clerk, with gown and bands, and Greenwood with the mace,

The Messengers in blue and red, who flit about the place, The Clerks and extra Clerks, the whom you scarcely can miscall, For they are either Majors, Subs, or Captains, one and all. * * # * And now my task is over, and I’ve only just to add, That the Session’s almost over, and for one I’m very glad. So sing we dulce domum, pack our boxes and go home, And tell to our constituents “ What things are done in Rome.” J- A.