RHYMES FOR THE TIMES—No. 3.

New Zealand Spectator and Cook's Strait Guardian, Volume VII, Issue 578, 15 February 1851, Page 3

RHYMES FOR THE TIMES—No. 3.

Hob ego versiculoa feci,tulit alter honores."— Virgil. I wrote the wusses, an’ not any buyer of land from the Monee.— free Translation. L’ENVOI. AS SUMO AT THE COMPLIMENTARY DINNER. Air “ Believe me, if all those endearing young charms. Believe us, if all those impertinent bams Which we’ve written so coolly to-day, Are swallowed by Parliament, thanks to your crams, And some radical theorist’s bray; If you still give us tick,—O! then, ‘Fokes ye’re a breek,’ Let the colonists say what they will, And like utiwai burrs, in our fleeces which stick, We’ll hang to you faithfully still. It is not in meetings like that we had last That our trash meets its bitterest test, For we knew that whatever we chose would be passed „ By a mob which our agents had pressed: No, Parliament’s rather another affair, Not so easily led by the nose; But noodles, Pillgarlic, will still back you there, Though all sensible men may oppose. THE REPLY. “ No, Sir, the way to make sure of power and influence is by lending money confidentially to your neighbours, and having their bonds in your possession."—/Jr. JoAnson. Air—“ The Legacy.” Now my thousand a-year is ended, Honestly earned and lent to you, And home I go, as I ever intended, Never forget when the interest’s due. And if you wish an extension of credit, Stick to the plans that I give to you now: Let the prosiest ass the Imiertinent edit, Printing his twaddle with shameless brow. As John Company lives no longer Save to obstruct the Governor’s acts, Make your obstacles stronger and stronger, Meet with lies the colonists’ facts : If a true settler’s heart should betray him, A fearless supporter of principles true, Bully him, ask what Sir George is to pay him, Try him with pistols and coffee for two. Never forget it is capital policy J o ask the scrubs of our Faction to dine Laugh in your sleeve should your friends their folly see, Swear their awkwardness springs from wine. Lure the unmarried with visions of spouses, Lead the needy by hopes of pay, Venture sometimes in their laughable houses, Taking a bath when you get away. Keep the few noodles, who’re still benighted, Up to the mark by talking grand: Say that Moles worth will be delighted To correspond with so clever a band. Should any laugh at our Constitution, Or question the facts were obliged to forge, Let every Constitutional goose shun That man as an agent of wicked Sir George. Now farewell, my silly supporters, Wine will tell when heads are weak, I hear some promising unborn daughters To Najitical Billy who’s rising to speak. Mid these signs of the power of Bacchus, I’ve but one sentiment yet to propose— May we ever have humbug and asses to back us, And bullies to silence sense from foes.