The Melanesian Maid
p. 65 · Read in the full issue
“This doggerel,’’ as he called it, is sent by Mr. E. W. Harrison, of Sebulugomwa, Eastern Papua, “with apologies to the gentleman who wrote 'The Polynesian Maid’.’’
“I hope,” says Mr. Harrison, “that it will be read by those bald-headed gentlemen who labour under the delusion that romance may be found in Melanesia, among nut-brown maidens lan guishing on golden beaches.”
Fortunately, the devastating Mr. Harrison says nothing about Polynesia, so that we can keep some of our illusions.
O MELANESIAN maiden!
O nut-brown “tart” — To live a life of love with thee Would break my blinking heart.
O Melanesian mind— Sans love, and black as night: Ne’er touched by true affection— Nor plagued by introspection.
O Melanesian smell, That cannot be mistaken; Oil, sweat, and grease as well— And cleanliness forsaken.
O Melanesian jaw’s harp, Torturing the night.
Calling to lovers darksome, Setting their hearts alight.
O Melanesian girls— O nut-brown maids!
Small insects roam their greasy curls And bite the dusky jades.
Alas! Poor Melanesian, No Romance dwells with thee— No long-drawn sigh, nor clinging kiss, Nor other signs of lovers’ bliss.
So, Farewell! “Bamahuta”! (Whichever you like best) — We’ll search for sweethearts cleaner In a land where smells are sweeter.
You make, of Love, a jest.