THE TRYST.
"It is stated that the Pungwé route to Mashonaland has been again closed by the Portuguese Authorities."—Reuter, May 24.
Now then, young Obstructive, still playing the sentry,
Where nobody wants you to watch or mount guard?
Are you to rule everyone's exit and entry?
Clear out, my young friend, or with you 'twill go hard.
You Portuguese Tappertit, turn it up, do!
D'ye think I'll be stopped by a monkey like you?
My Mash, that young woman! Will you bar our meeting?
We're sweethearts. Will you interfere with our tryst?
You pert whippersnapper, my sable-skinned sweeting
My masculine wooing's too wise to resist.
Shall RHODES be cut out by a small Portuguese,
With a gun and a swagger? Pooh! Fiddle-de-dee!
We've put up too long with your pranks, my fine fellow,
Because of your size, upon which you presume.
Oh, it's no use to twirl your moustache and look yellow!
Mean having that gal, howsoever you fume.
You'd better behave yourself, boy, or no doubt
Before very long we shall clean you right out.
Look at home, keep your own ways a little bit clearer,
And don't go a-blocking up other folks' roads.
Eh? You warn me off her? I mustn't come nearer?
Ha, ha! My good-nature your impudence goads.
Clear out, whilst you're safe, you young shrimp! Don't be rash!
For I shan't let you come between me and my Mash!
