A Tongan Lament.

Dedicated to recent writers on Tongan affairs.

"The terrors of exposure are nil, even were there no shelter available.'’ — Fakamatala, in March 15.

“In fact . . . the only actual necessity for procuring money is to pay taxes and purchase luxuries.”—Fair Play, in P.I.M., March 15.

“The taxation shrinkage is not explainable, but no doubt is due to their sheer inability to pay.”

"Tonga’s Deficit,'' P.I.M., May 20.

Oh-! people of Tonga, 'tis grievous to ponder On the time that you waste and the money you squander On such trifles as houses, carts, harness and tools, Such conduct is clearly transgressing the rules.

You’ve even been known to buy spades, hoes and axes, And, sad to relate, shirk paying your taxes.

Such shocking, bad taste as this will not do, For quite a large number depend for their screw On the taxes, brown brother, they squeeze out of you; But what does it matter? Your wants are but few.

If requested to work their reply would be “Pooh!

We leave that delightful diversion to you.”

Some most friendly writers, but always “sub rose,”

E’en say you’d be happy sans shelter, sans clothes.

They wouldn’t much like it themselves, I sup pose— Their salaries are good, as everyone knows.

Such sapient counsel I fear is a pose To disguise that they lead you secure by the nose.

One shilling a case, five sov’reigns per ton— Banana and copra production is fun.

Should one of your readers desire to engage In this lucrative pastime, just write me a page; I’ll sell a plantation for one-half its cost, And he may grow rich on what I’ll have lost.

My muse, it grows feeble, alas and alack!

From the heights of Parnassus I have to come back To matters mundane, and still do my best By the sweat of my brow a scant living to wrest Where ’tis really most easy to lend, spend or give.

But in truth very hard by one’s own work to live.

A.C.

Nukualofa.