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Victoria College Capping Carnival. Thursday, June 27th, 1912

Act II

page 24

Act II.

Scene 1: Irving's Dream.

Scent 2: The Competitions.

The Troubles of a Virtuous Youth.

I'm a virtuous man, I am indeed,
And above suspicion,
I warn men (though they never heed)
Of black perdition;
I censor posters of all the plays,
And write to the daily press
To "Ward" the public against the ways
Of the actor and gay actress.

I'm a very saintly man,
And I try as best I can
To protect the people's minds from pictures vicious.
Oh! the picture shows I'd have
Would delight His Worship Dave,
For they'd never be one little bit suspicious.

I love all actor men, I do,
In a way quixotic;
But drink, the curse, must surely go,
That vile narcotic.
And yet my voice is vainly heard.
Men go their own sweet way.
They say I'm really most absurd,
And trip to Lyall Bay.

I'm a very clever man,
And I've got a splendid plan;
Under which New Zealand shall be good and beerless;
Girls from Rectors I would: ban,
Every post-card I would scan,
As the Ruler of Utopia, grand and peerless.

The Standard Insurance is a purely New Zealand concern, therefore support it. Office Featherston street, behind Kirkcaldie and Stains. Tel.. 186.

page 25

The Song of the Victor.

Sirs, your toast, a glorious welcome claiming,
I don the Robes in Mayoral pomp to-day;
All my supporters poor Smith is blaming,
Wright is saddened, Biss is maddened at my fine array.
Oh, what cunning! Oh, what strokes of cunning
I made throughout the fearful fray!
Once Newman beat me (he'd motors running),
But I've turned the tables on my foes this polling day.
Last December I was rejected, for the voters calmly turned me down,
But 'tis now I am once more respected,
I'm the ruler of this blessed town:
Look out! Beware! For Dave is Mayor! Ah!

Now I am Mayor, I am free from every care,
Socialist scare, Tramway Night-mare.
I did not try to poll so very high,
Biss captured Smith's Wright-ful vote,
While I stood so shyly by, with modest air,
O'er them in joy to gloat.

Now I'm in, I'll revolutionise; yes, I'll revolutionise the, City's management,
No more shall Hindmarsh call Smith such [unclear: horrid] names;
No more strikes, and no more trudging into the City.
Only wait till I present you with my great municipal newspaper daily,
For I will socialise all private enterprise.
All the City picture-dens shall change at my command,
And in the Park the Territorials go marching past as I stand by in state.
See them gaze upon my Mayoral carriage,
One of three allowed to pass the Gate.
Look out! Beware! For change prepare! Ah!

Hey, for the Mayor. Of McLaren now beware,
Fuller's and West's must take very great care.
I will a splendid censorship devise,
Councils alone shall be shown,
Then I'll be before all eyes.
(Won't Semple swear!)
I've gained the longed-for prize,
I am the Mayor (three hundred a Year),
I'm there, I'm. Mayor!

page 27


Capping Songs.

Suprema a Situ.

Oh! you may have heard before
Of a certain windy mound,
With the houses perched on cliffs
On the minimum of ground;
Where the streetways are so wide
Two can walk them side by side,
It's the first and foremost city in New Zealand,
Free land, Zealand!
It's the first and foremost city in New Zealand.

The Empire City see
Upon the hills beside the sea,
Though you search you cannot get a
City site that's any better
Than the site on Lambton Quay.
No Christchurch plains for me,
The ocean's wave I love to see;
Though Auckland may be Eden,
And Paradise Dunedin,
Yet Wellington will do for me.

O! the mob that there abide,
Cosmopolitan they are;
Though they nearly all are Chows,
Or are members of the Bar,
Though they lost their Lead in Art,
Baillie's boosting up the mart.
They're the first and foremost people in New Zealand,
Free land, Zealand!
They're the first and foremost people in New Zealand.
The Empire City see, &c.:

In the month of April last
They got Labour in for Mayor,
And though Biss was Wright for votes,
His lop-sided ways were clear.
Oh! the leading lights so shine
That the natives all opine
It's the first and foremost city in New Zealand,
Free land, Zealand!
It's the first and foremost city in New Zealand.
The Empire City see, &c.:

page 28

Undergraduates we are
Still swatting for Degree;
We let no trifles worry us,.
We may get through—to-morrow.

To-morrow! To-morrow!
We may get through to-morrow.
When all the Profs, are pensioned off
We may get through—to-morrow.

V.C. has a football team
(Oh, let us shed a tear!),
And their chief aim in life is this:
To win a match—to-morrow.

To-morrow! To-morrow!
To win a match to-morrow;
And though it may be by default,
They'll win a match—to-morrow.

College men are asking for
A better Common Room;
The Council blandly promise them
It shall be theirs-—to-morrow.

To-morrow! To-morrow!
It shall be theirs to-morrow.
The room the women use to-day
Shall be the men's—to-morrow.

The Heretics have formed a Club
(No! No! You must not smile!),
Just read the list of officers,
And see the joke—to-morrow.

To-morrow! To-morrow!
You'll see the joke to-morrow.
Such "martyrs" in a noble cause
Will see the stake to-morrow.

All Workers should be covered against Accident by Employers. Call and see the Standard Insurance, Featherston Street, behind Kirkcaldie and Stains, about it. Tel. 186.

page 29

While Tramway men went out on strike
The City Council smiled,
But when the strikers asked for terms,
The Council said "To-morrow."

To-morrow! To-morrow!
The Council said "To-morrow.
The one-horse 'bus will suit us Well,
We'll settle terms—to-morrow."

Massey and McKenzie fight,
And imprecations hurl;
Meanwhile the public wonders if
They'll do some work to-morrow.

To-morrow! To-morrow!
They'll do some work to-morrow.
When they are tired of touring trips,
They'll do some work—to-morrow!

page 30
Sports Chorus.

"Oh, for a beaker full of the warm south.!"

When air's like wine in sunny weather,
And the breeze blows cobwebs from the brains;
When Latin's folly, Law's a tether,
And the blood goes dancing through the veins,
Then hey! for where your fancy races,
Away from the city's stifling grip,
To the playing fields and open places—
And let the world of toilers slip!
Then here's to the long white road that beckons,
The climb that baffles, the risk that nerves;
And here's to the merry heart that reckons
The rough with the smooth, and never swerves!

Be it hockey stick, or oval leather,
Or skiff, or racquet, rod or gun,
Here's luck! for the sport we've had together,
For chances lost and battles won;
For the wicket true, and field in fettle,
And the man who's safe for a tingling catch;
For the losing team that shows its mettle,
And the man who wins his heat from scratch.
Then here's to the sportman's road that beckons,
The climb that baffles, the risk that nerves;
And here's to the merry heart that reckons
The rough with the smooth, and never swerves!