SPECIAL IPISOL.

Temuka Leader, Issue 284, 31 August 1880, Page 2

SPECIAL IPISOL.

Lambton Kay, Wellington, 17th Aug., 1880.

Begorra, I'm not in much av a humor for writ.n' this week, for sure me ould friend Sir Hurfculiss has been ordhered to the right -about face, as we used to say in the miiishy an' volunteers. Ton me enshinse, it's the last time i'llax the boys at home to vote for GlsdsMfie, so it is. The mane spalpeen, one av his fiist ax (not the axe he chops the threes wid) is to rimove the Gavemor. TJndher the cloak o' promoshun, he's given Sir Ilerkuliss the Cape, but sure it's jist d.»ne to annoy himself an' Sir George,, so it is bad luck to thing else An' thin ha'- sindiiv us Sir Aurthur Gordon, a gentlemen I niver hard av before in the hole course of me life so I didn't. I'm tould he comes from Feed Ye, an' av that's the case, he should take up his qnarthers down among yer Christchurch folks, where he'd be a grand ox-sillary to the soupkitchen, bekays he'd undherstand how to Peed Ye. I sthruck off the foliowin' gim to impre.-s me sorrow at partin' wid Sir Hurkuliss. I'm gittin' it printed on green satin for presi.itashun.

1 LIMINTAVION,

Asthore machree ! och faix ye see, Me heart is sore to-night;

I'm in a mess, for Herkuliss Is goin' to lave our sight. Sure Gladstone's Whigs —the dirty prigsHave ordered him away, An' I am sad —it's thrue, bedad— He's goin' to era s the say.

luck attind, and divil mind The Liberals at Home, To thrate us so ; I'd like to know Why Horkuliss should roam ? Wid noble blood he filled hi 3 stud, We miss his colors gay Ipon the coorse —av coorse, av coorse, Hs's ordhered o'er the say. Whin Gussy wint, I was contint — .bij Markiss we could spare, Bekavs his breed—it's thrue indeed — Did not come from Kildare; Bat Robinson, his spurs has won On Curragh coorse —hooray ! In many a ra?e he got a place, Why does he crass the say ? Be gog, I sigh to say " goou-by." Och, why wor these command ? I'd like to know why he should go> To Anne's burnin' sands ? Where ugly Boors an 1 Blackamoors, An' ould King Chat-away, Av savage race disturb the paice. Acrass the ragin' say. The Kaffirs bould, faix so I'm tould, Are mighty fierce an' wild; The ZOOIOO3, too, make Irish stew Av woman, man, an' child ; The Hottentots are dhrunken sots> Bad whisky is ther tay ; Och shure it's sthrange, he'll find jfche change Aciass the ragin' say. I don't know much about the Dutch, They live on Sour Krout — 'Twist me an' you that's jist burgoo, Some call it stir-a-bout > Aitch city's mare, sure I declare, Aits burgoo—masther's whey, An' smokes an' chaws—faixthim's the laws Acrass the rangin' say. Och, Herkuliss, bedad we'll miss Yer janeyill countinince, Sure Gladstone should (it's choppin's wood That's robb'd him av his sinse), Have kept ye here for many a year, To sthroll on Lambton Kay — Me biuidick-shun, take, avick, Acrass the ragin' say. PADDY MURPHY. — " N. Z. Public Opinion."