Corcoran, J. V., grocer, young, but with hair so gray;
Quite a catch of the season, but hard to hook, I say.
Conaghan, J. P., grocer, gentle, meek and mild;
Pity his simplicity, he’s not a forward child.
Cunliffe, W. V., railway head, one of the oldest of the crew,
With an unbeaten record—likes a shandy, too.
Fraser, V. de P., ex-soldier, a wicked, wicked flirt,
As a female impersonator, a cuddlesome bit of skirt.
Gittos, W. V., draper, in a shrewd, quiet sort of way,
Has got the girls all thinking, they’ll catch him yet one day.
Johnston, F. J., agent; for a wowser no time at all;
Reckons the Garden of Eden was perfect before The Fall.
Jones, N. W., ex-soldier, with vast experience at the war;
But a charge like that on Kumara Beach he never saw before
Keating, M. J., County Clerk, going well and strong;
Says to carry Prohibition would be a grievous wrong.
Lindsay, W. A., ex-soldier, guaranteed to sell
Any old sort of hardware, or dress circle seats in hell.
Lord, E. I, surveyor, drew a rabbit on his head,
To show there was a little “hare” when all his “hair” was dead.
Moncrief, R. V., sailor, hails from the Shetland Isles;
A woman’s heart is shattered every time he smiles.
Mullins, T. J., ex-soldier, with “tabbies” Boss-Tom of the lot;
But doesn’t seem to choose one. Got too many! What?
McGilligan, P. J., baker, his “dough” he puts in right:
Sure to get a dividend, for style the limit quite.
McGrath, J. F., accountant, swears that rich brown beer,
Is twice as sweet as a sheila’s lips and a damned sight more sincere.
McKay, G. M., ironmonger, and one of the Old Brigade:
Of a pint of shandy, not a bit afraid,
McKeowen, H. V., railway head, a son of Erin bold;
Prescribes a drop of whisky for keeping out the cold.
