Original Poetry.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 63, 28 January 1862, Page 3

Original Poetry.

PLEESEMAN X'S LAMENT. Ho I v pepel hof Duneding, His there won hof v expex That v aye a cove among yer Wick is name's Perleeseman X 1 Yes, I'm here, the far famed peeler, From yer heyes 2 pick the motes, Like the grate "tremenjus Wheeler, Hin is choice profetick notes. Hit was hon the nite hof Satterday, (Wich is orkerd 2 my rhyme,) That I tramped the streets and jetty, 2my nees hin slush f and slime. Hand i summed hup all things mortle Hin 2 strong hexpressive werds, Wanitas and Wunitatcm Even hin this land of lairds. Hit was rainin kold hand dismal, Hit was blowin from the south, Hand my teath was chatt'rin liorfle Hin my tremblin freezin mowth. Hand the liimmigrants pore crechers, But jist landed hon the shoare, Stood Mn knots hand wundered weather Hit would rane for hevermore. Hup and doun the toun thay wandered, Wanely seekin for a bed, Hand the wimen sighed hand wished for Sum klene plase 2 lay tlieir cd. Ho I v Government hoffishels ! Ho ! v patryhotick coves I Ho I v grabbers and devourers Hof the fishes and the loaves I Don't v think v act unwisely Hin the welkmn that v give 2 the thousands hof pore crechers Hoo come here to wurk and live % Streets hunformed hand rocles disgrasefle, Town at nite as black as hink— Not a lamp 2 lite the darkness, Not a kandel or a link. As i look beyond mi koller, Koller stiff, hand ard, hand tite, I behold the sad reflexshun Hof a wision bin the nite. Wision hof this province weakened, Itetrogradin, hand bekaus Hit is siiaim felly misgoverned By disgraaette bunglin laws. Hand my bile, hit rises liorfle, '* Hand i wave my trunshen bold — Hif we hare not ritely governed,' Wot's the use of all the gold'! So be wise, ho, smart hoffishles, And be kareful not to vex, Or 2 raise the preshus bile hof Yours liin sorrer Pleeseman X.