A MAORI’S LAMENT.

Patea Mail, Volume 1, Issue 28, 17 July 1875, Page 2

A MAORI’S LAMENT.

(Contributed.) Gone are the days when. I freely could roa - n Wherever my f nw might. stray ; Through the bush, or the fern, or the lonely sea beach. And sit watching the fast flving c nrnv. At night when from hunting I homeward would come. To my whare. there watching for me, Was my wahinc pr.i, my dark dusky bride, Who*had patiently kept waiting tea. Such a daintiful fare then she quickly would spread On a mat, or a flat piece of bark. Of pawa's a few, and a rotten coni stow, And likewise a piece of dried s>*-k. The last dish of all. she then woulil produce 1 , Procured from a neighbouring pah. And display with a pride that wou'd beaut f’om her eyes. The fine leg of a roast pakeha. On dainties so line we bo hj would then dine. And keep feasting, and ne’er dream of harm. And then we would smoke, with each other 1 joke - Round our fire fu our b’nrrkets so warm. No quarrels had we. but like birds up a trecy Who roost ’noath the star spanklcd sky : We would first rub each nose, then seek our repose On our flax mats so soft, warm md d y. But now what a change has c< m s over the scene. And altered what once was so fair. No more I alone can freely now roam But the sentry cries, “ Halt! who comes there ? ” And if I return to my whare at night; Of supper instead. I’m not sure. But what I may find beside nothing to dine, That my wife may be fin nk on He floor. Instead of the smoke and the once harmless joke, With which wc our evening would pass. It now is a threat that she will break my neck, And perhaps at my bead flings Oie glass. Oh. curse the waipira the pakeha h’ ought, That seduces our wives’ hearts away. Makes wretched our homes that once were pride, And outlines turns night into dev. Tis destroying our youth, turns to water their hearts That once were in battle so strong. Now at gambling they sit and the spirit will sip. And keep drinking through all the night long. I write these few lines, faintly hop’ng they’! find A friend who won’t think it disgrace To endeavour this worst and our bitterest » curse To stop, and thus save our lost race. If this is not done soon our race will be run, And then in the future I see The last man alone, with a curse and a moan Pass away in a fit of D.T.’s. TANGI MOANA.