CLEVEDON.

Pukekohe & Waiuku Times, Volume 8, Issue 480, 10 June 1919, Page 1 (Supplement)

CLEVEDON.

THE GUIDE'S LAMENT. A man of si2e and much renown, His name, no matter for the time) Said " I will take tin Council down I'll surely make them toe the line

Six hundred pounls in rates and taxes Wm all we ha<! whan I was boss To make the roads in hits and patches, And I to >k care there wis no loss.

Waste and extravagance I hated When any road we had to mend, Because, you see, as I have stated, We had so little cash to spend.

If John or Alex wanted metal To make the roads look firm and good, I'd say their bother I'll soon settle; I'll nip their project in the bud. I'd tell the Clerk to write a letter, To say they'd insufficient grounds To ask for roadways any better. When we had but six hundred pounds

"If roads you want, theu take your teams out, And to the river wend your way, And scrape the bottoms of jour streams out, And scrape the shingle on your clay."

They'd bow their heads—do as I told 'em, Aod at the annual meeting, they, Their heads up in the air they'd hold 'em Because they'd no more rates to pay

They'd " bless their Sam " who kept their rates Within the said six hundred quid; T'was lighting hard against the fates. But that is what I boldly did.

Now, times are changed, ami I'm much older, Their gratitude is simply nil; I'm set aside and told I'm mouldly ; A younger man my place doth fill. They say my methods antiquated Bad roads are now things of the past; They've got to have the district rated, To pay for roads they'll make to last Concrete, tarmac, and other notions Are brought to light, and cried around; To have them they will pass a motion, And mike the rates three thousand pounds.

Bridges of coicrete they now fancy, Where wood, I found, in days of old, Would frr this simple purpose answer, And save the ratepayers' hard earned gold.

What if the wood in time did perish And make the bridge nnsafe for use; I always find a certain relish, In taking censure and abuse

What if old Rip sticks in the mud, And cannot &8t his car to gee ; Twill surely do his neighbours good, To see him struggle home to tea

What if John can't get out at nights, To Farmers Union or a dance ; The roads are burely nothi' g like The ones the buys hdV* had in Fiance.

What if- but thore '. I've said enough, No statue yet has come my way : I'm getting old—my path is rough, The poor old Guide has had his day.

I cannot teach my leet to walk On these new tracks so up to date, But while alive I mean to talk, Although I've not said much of late.

But if I get a chance to say Just what I think, and am not stopped, I'll make that Council bold and gay, Wish they the rates on roads had dropped.

I'll follow them right through the game, I'll fairly tarn them insi le out; Like Crabs—of Whakatiddle fame— They'll 9'ide step, squirm, and turn about.

But all their efforts are in vain, I'll get them yet stuck in the mud; I'll make them say " T " was very plain, In Samuel's time the roade were good." RIP VAN WINKLE