ORIGINAL VERSE.

Taranaki Daily News, 24 December 1915, Page 9 (Supplement)

ORIGINAL VERSE.

THE LAST APPEAL, Are you going to answer the call, lads, and follow your comrades' lead, To help our glorious Empire in her hour of need? For there's no such thing a« tnralM back; we've gone too far to stopIt s either the British Empire or tho Hun conies out on top,

Are you going to answer the call, ladf, and go of yonr own free will? Or have you stifled conscience till iti voice is almost still J Those blood-stained fields of Belgium. Poland, gallant Servia, too— Do you say when you read the latest news tha»t It's nothing to do with you?

Are you going to answer the call, lad*. or still be deaf and dumb, To wait till they have to fetch you and let conscription come? For we know it's a bitter wrench, ladJi to part from all so dear, Yet better to go as your comrades dltfi yes, go as a volunteer.

So fight it out with yourselves, lads, and answer the call to-day, And prove to those who'r'e calling that you'll go in tho old free way, Go help our glorious Empire, lads, in this her hour of need, To carve a road to Viotory, that'll on to Freedom lead. —H. J. f^GLEFIELD. Pungarehu, December 18. 'NELLY'S LETTER. What ho! dear Jack, I've got ypnr scrawl; am glad to hear you're welL Give my best love to early Jim who'» growing quite a swell; ' I saw him on the township road when I was there last week; His khaki collar held his throat so tight he couldn't speak. He didnt even glance at me—it really was too bad, But as he's joined the fighting line I must forgive the lad. ' And so you're going to stay at home to mind the cows and pigs, You say for fighting Turks and Huns you wouldn't give two figs! Poor, foolish lad, I grieve for you • ou needn't try a bluff. There, I won't rub it in too hard, you'll catch it hot enough. But don't you "darling Nelly" me, I'm not "your" darling, mind; And don't you dare to call up here, for if you do you'll find My heart is with our soldier hds, and when they're far away I'll dream of them both day and night and for their welfare prav. And when the boyg come home again, I really feel afraid That, if I'm given half a chance, I'll kiss the whole brigade.

Just fancy! little Daisy Bell has wept her eyes quite dry Because her boy's gone to fight she must sit down and cry. Last week poor Tom"came home on leave to take a fond farewell, She tear-stained his new khaki coat and broke him up as well, And when he went off on the train, slit did a tangi there— Oh, nothing pleases Daisy more than making people stare; She said she knows he won't come back, she feels that he'll be shot, And then she had a fresh attack, and "circus'd" quite a lot. Just two hours after that display of genuine distress, She started for the picture play to show off her new dress. If I were Tom I'd get a lass who'd art a different part: One with a good deal less of style and somewhat more of heart. My word! I've wasted time, indeed; the kids are home for tea. There's cows to milk and fowls to feed—' they all depend on me. Our mother's at the sewing bee, andfather's at the plough, For both our boys are at the front and. 7 there's no "labor" now. Just ride along when you have time and cheer up Daisy Bell, You'll suit each other to a T. So long yours truly, Nell. —J.R.S. Awatuna, December 14. BOYS OP NEW ZEALAND. Boys of New Zealand, we think of yon Over the seas to-night, Keeping your wateh in the trenches damp Under the stars' pale light. Never a day but our thoughts take wing, Where the wind of the tropics blows, Where our brave boys fight for theil freedom's right In the land where the Crescent glows.

You for your country have risked your all Where the bullets and shrapnel fly, Leaving the comfort and ease of home To lend her vour aid—and die. To dauntlessly struggle 'gainst fearful odds, Striving with might and main, Though the slopes are red with the life* '

blood shed, The terrible cost of gain,

Boys of New Zealand, our hearts with

pride Glow warm when we think of you, Your splendid achievements that woo y<fli fume As heroes and Britons true, On a roll of honor your names are blated, Your country extols your worth, You have covered with fame New Ze»

land's name, Dear land of your home and birth,

Boys ot New Zealand, we think of yon Low in the grave tp-night, Sleeping the dreamless sleep of death In sound of the din of fight No call of bugle disturbs your rest, Life's tumult ior you Is o'er. Soldiers brave in your narrow grave On Gahipoli's rocky shore,

—B. M. FIELD. Oaonui, December 10.