Shaun’s Patch

Southland Times, Issue 21097, 31 May 1930, Page 8

Shaun’s Patch

A little noneenee now end then la relished by the wisest =*«*• —Hudlbnuu

dues or Pirates, Pirates-Blues; wonder will the big chaps lose.

Pirates-Blues, the Blues or Pirates The Black’s will back themselves at high rates.

A friend halted me yesterday to tell me there was a Scot who refused to send his son to school because he heard they had to pay attention. * * * *

ADD FAMOUS BAGS. dad. ' Nose .

EDUCATIONAL AIDS. Give a sentence with the word “dervish” in it: "Dervish is father to the, thought. * * * *

The way of the transgressor is hard, but then so is the path of virtue at times. « * * *

The eyes are windows to the mind, Which means they show what is behind. For proof: You see a vacant stare And know at once there’s nothing there.

Dull minds, you see, will dull the eyes And startled eyes, the mind’s surprise, But when with light an eye is bright Are you quite sure her mind is light?

"All the scenes of my past life flashed before my eyes” said the man describing Ills narrow escape from death, “and for once I looked at a moving picture without having to wade through the miles devoted to„the studio staff and the censor's signature. » * * * 1930 SIMILES. As cheering as a statement by Mr Forbes. As welcome as taxation. * I have been informed that it is the fathead, and not the overhead that makes the Government expensive.

* * * * MODERN PROVERBS. A miss is as shrewd as her guile.

“What do I know about love?” The fellow got quite waxy, "What do and I’m The driver of a taxi!” * * * *

Invercargillite in express: What a long tunnel this is! . . Second Ingillite in express: This is not a tunnel; it’s Dunedin.

* * * * Mary had a little lamb, But now the lamb is dead, . And it has gone to school with her Between two bits of bread. * « * *

CEDRIC THE CAT. O Cedric, you’re a happy chap, You find a joy in many a lap And while to troubles I’m deferring, You sleep upon the hearth-rug purring.

Your nose is snuggled in your paws, I wonder if you breathe, because When I’m in bed I find the cloying Blanket really most annoying.

I ponder on folk of your ilk Who make a goodly meal of milk, While I complain, and feel quite scoffy If I have nothing more than coffee.

A cork upon a length of string To you is an arresting thing, But I fly round with awful strictures Upon elaborate motion pictures.

You answer ardently to all Who challenge you upon the wall. While I, with battle in me rising, Must watch two fellows in a prize-ring.

I launch myself in training strong Whene’er I wish to'sing a song, And worn’, but I know when you sing You merely take it as amewsing.