TARANAKI SONG.

New Zealand Spectator and Cook's Strait Guardian, Volume III, Issue 126, 14 October 1846, Page 3

TARANAKI SONG.

Written by Mr. J. Huksthouse, and sung at the Farmers* Club by Mr. Newxand. The passing moments to beguile, To cheer our spirits, raise a smile. Though rude the verse, and rough the lays, We'll sing in Taranaki's praise. And soon we'll prove, in doggrel rhymes, Despite the badness of the times, That of all places on the coast, We surely have best causa to boast. CHORUS. So banish care, and don't despair Of Fortune in this place so rare ; But in a bumper pledge the toast, New Plymouth/ow*/ New Zealand's boast. We've famous land for him who tills ; To grind our corn we've got good mills ; We've churches for the orthodox, And for the sinners gaols and stocks ; We've lowing herds on every side, And hapuka in every tide ; And as for fruit, the place is full Of that delicious bull-a-bull. We've coal, jet black, on yonder hill, And manganese close by the mill ; There's sulphur near old Egmont's base, And iron-sand all o'er the place •, There's nikel, too, if we are right, And signs of silver rich and bright : And who the deuce is there to tell, But that a gold mme 's there as well ? And other things we've got besides : We've got Gledhill to tan our hides ; To strike the whale with harpoon true, We've Barrett and his hardy crew ; Our flagging spirits soon we'll cheer, With Davy's stout, or George's beer ; Nor fetch tobacco from afar, When Nairn can twist the mild cigar. We've gallant hearts, and ladies fair ; A climate that 's beyond compare ; We've crystal water, noble wood, In fact, we've ev'rything that 's goodSure nothing more we need to add To prove the sin of being sad ; And gaily here through life we'll rub, And merrily meet at the Farmers' Club.