Owed To A Tropical
p. 76 · Read in the full issue
Night
By "A Passing Mosquito "
The glittering moon, a brilliant star; The chirping of the Cicada; And mirrored in the silent pool, Old Jimmy, and his bush-beer school.
The thundering surf upon the reef, A sound that tells of long-past grief; And rolling on into the night, The snarling of a canine fight.
The music of the soft guitar— A lovely sound that’s heard afar That nothing in the world can mar— The honking of a V 8 car!
The murmur of a tiny brook; No need to read that restful book.
A sound far-reaching and so tireless— Your friend’s turned on his blasted wireless!
The Uke with all its rythmic strains, Stirring blood within your veins— Words preserved with long-told c&rc — Benny Goodman takes the air!
The so-clear, yet so-fragrant breeze, Is sighing in the stately trees— No clash and clang of gears and cogs— An uproar from a million dogs!
The age-old dancelof fine tradtions— No need here for new additions.
The happy pair just smile and shrug— And gaily jive the jitterbug!
The lovely girl, and age-old song: Here there can be nothing wrong.
She, smiling shows her pearly teeth— And breaks into “Beyond the Reef”!
You wonder where the hell we are, And why we stay in lands so far.
You wonder why we linger longer— Then why not come to Rarotonga!
If Mr. and Mrs. Bruce McCaig went to Auckland on short leave in De cember-January. Mr. McCaig is an Administrative Officer in the Gilbert & Ellice. Prior to her marriage last July, Mrs. McCaig was matron of the Tarawa hospital, having gone there after short periods in Tonga and Fiji in the course of a working tour of the world.