Miss Enzed Conquest

Taranaki sends this beauty
To try to carry off the booty,
This slender, fragile, little flower
Can milk 200 cows an hour.
She's popular at country dances,
She specialises in the lancers;
Married men dance with her up at Inglewood,
Because it's certain no one single would,
For they've heard that it's her plan,
Ere Leap Year's done, to get her man.

Miss Napier shows a bustle
(At first I thought 'twas only muscle),
A corset helps to give the bust
A rather charming" forward thrust;
And thus apparelled, gentle creatures
Display two interesting features—
We won't go further into that.
Surrealists designed the hat
With methylated inspiration
(Did I say hat I meant creation).
A parchment lampshade forms the base,
While clothes-pegs dangle round the face.
The lid from a tobacco tin
Is gently held against the chin;
The front is trimmed with boot protectors,
While over all there hands—a parsnip.

This dress worn by Miss Dunedin
Is made from sacks that once had seed in.
The effect is really rather comical.
But Dunedin likes things economical.
A variety worn in Awarua
Has sacks that once contained manure.
The hat is one you'd all look smart in—
It's modelled in MacHaggis tartan.

The Christchurch entrant—Miss B. Avon,
Reared on gin and riboflavin—
Has new look (London line or fe-line),
(Or bodyline perhaps or bee-line).
It makes her look all curved and crook-like,
While men forget what girls' knees look like.

Designs thus seemed to lack a focus,
Until the dress-designing jokers
Make amends with the corsage
And introduced decolletage.
Thus progress moves on steady wings,
And lift our minds to higher things.

We introduce from Pukeowhare,
The glamorous Miss Paikorikori.
Her dress is dyed in calcimine
And shows the Pukeowhare line.
She pays no coupons and no tax
Because her clothes are made with flax
(Phormium tenax).

This last one's quite a specialty,
A candidate from V.U.C.
Her skirt is trimmed with Kremlin red,
With Moscow gold around her head.
To keep away from harm she's certain—
Beneath her skirt's an iron curtain.

You'll have to admit that they're all beauties,
And beat the celluloid Yankee cuties.