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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 8, Issue 2 (June 1, 1933)

To-moan Poisoning

To-moan Poisoning.

Life has as many ups and downs as a fireman's ladder at a house-warming, but the fire-fighter who can pause during the heat and burning of the day to unleash a little love and laughter into the contentious conflagration called life, pours better for the pause. He is the cheerful chump who knows that all work and no quirk makes Jack grow up into a financier, or even worse. So thank God for the cheerful chump who gives to the woozy world a fitful fillup with laughing gas—the age-old antidote for To-moan poisoning. The “bright and chary,” nor does it include such specimens of perpetual commotion as the bibulous-backbanger and opportunist-optimist. Also out, is the early bacon-and yeggster who, with his ghoulish gaiety, causes our breakfast sausage to grovel in its gravy, at the protozen period of our progress when all we ask is a little “largo” in the limbo of the “tempo” while we change gear from “shake-down” to shake-up.