ODE TO THE SIXTEENTH JANUARY.

Digger (Invercargill RSA), Issue 4, 9 April 1920, Page 1

ODE TO THE SIXTEENTH JANUARY.

Oh, fatal Friday ! Monumental Dry Day ! Ah, dreadful Sixteenth day of January Ihat expurgates the Nation's commissary, For ail the years to come, Oi whisky, brandy, gin and beer and rum, The sparkling flow of Yeuve Clicquot and Mumm And all the wines — I cannot speak tiro worst ; Drought leaves me glum and dumb, 0 Day accurist Oh Thirst! Hushes is that song of high emprise. , "Give us a drink, bartender!" "Drink to me only with thine eyes!" Now is the dirge we render, Home-brew sliall not beguile us in the least. Hard cider is not good for man or beast. Away with grape juice! whether primed with yeast Or furtive raisin. Cheer your sorry feast, If cheer ye can, with soda wan and pale, Or Ginger Ale! Can naught avail, Is there no Mandate, none, By which this Day's dread work may be undone, Restoring us our wonted liquid rations? Say ! what s the matter with the League of Nations? In vain we grope, No hope, no hope, This arid Day Has tucked away All Drops of Happiness from mortal ken. No more shal! vintage, lightly alcoholic, Rejoice the weary soul and rule the frolic, Nor men Say "When?" Again?