OTHER PEOPLE’S IDEAS

Wairarapa Times-Age, 23 November 1942, Page 4

OTHER PEOPLE’S IDEAS

SUNDAY COURSING (To the Editor) Sir, —How is it that the Wairarapa Coursing Club is allowed to hold race meetings on Sundays? Has the club received permission from the Borough Council; if so, why? One Sunday recently we had a procession through Queen Street of the Christian Order. Then, on the following Sunday a coursing meeting was held. We are told to pray for victory. How can our prayers be answered if we allow dog racing on the Sabbath? Probably the next thing will be horse racing on Sundays (God forbid). This sport, which is carried on only a few hundred yards from one of our churches, is in my opinion, a disgrace to Masterton.—l am, etc., DISGUSTED. Masterton, November 23.

“It is no concern of the Borough Council. We have no jurisdiction over the Rugby Union’s grounds,” said Mr D. T. Herbert, acting-Town Clerk, in referring to the above letter. He added that anyone could do as they pleased. so far as sports were concerned at least, on private grounds, whether it was Sunday or not. THAT ARMY DANCE Sir,—“Just Troopers” may take comfort. A greater than they has already spoken for them—the vulgar Mr Kipling:— For it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Chuck him out, the brute!” But it’s “Saviour of ’is country" when the guns begin to shoot; Yes. rnakin’ mock o’ uniforms that guard you while you sleep Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;. An’ hustlin’ drunken soldiers when they’re goin’ large a bit Is five times better business than paradin’ in full kit. Then it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, ’ow's your soul?” But it’s “Thin red line of ’eroes” when the drums begin to roll The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll, O it’s “Thin red line of ’eroes” when the drums begin to roll.

We aren't, no thin red ’eroes, nor we aren’t no blackguards too, But single men in barracks, most remarkable like you; An’ if sometimes our conduck isn’t' all your fancy paints, Why, single men in barricks don’t grow into plaster saints; For it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, wait outside”; But it’s “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper’s on the tide — The troopship’s on the tide, my boys, the troopship’s on the tide, O it’s “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper’s on the tide.” Our soldiers in Libya have shocked Rommel “like a mobile. New Zealand earthquake.” As for those who are still with us in training, we know not how soon it will be that “the trooper’s on the tide.” In communities not so far away, men, women and children have been subjected to murder and rapine, and their houses, public edifices and shrines blasted to smoking ruins. Il’ our boys save this country from such desolations, we need not scold because they find difficulty in being a mobile earthquake and a girls’ Sunday school at the same time. We may forgive them if they leave a little litter about our College grounds, if they break a chair or two, or scratch the panelling of our nice Assembly Hall. If those are our scars of war, we shall have got off lightly. We may even view with equanimity that last enormity of the abandoned soul who could say “0.K., ,0.K.” to a schoolmaster. —I aril, etc., RUDYARD. ANSWER TO CORRESPONDENT. Broadminded Teetotaller.^—Letters for publication must be accompanied, as an evidence of good faith, by the name and address of the writer, though not necessarily for publication. —Ed.