Scene: A room, rather sombre. On the walls are hung pictures of Karl Marx, the Examiner, Lenin the Liberator, Trostky the Triumphant, and Massey the Maudlin, A picture of Wilford is not hung. It resembles a thieves' kitchen. A table in centre, round which sit a number of old men knitting.

Cast of Characters.

Carl Marx (editor of the "Maoriland Shiker")

C. Gamble

"What have you gained by the strike you follow?
What do you mean by the song you sing?
What will you do when the supper is gone?"

—Mr. F. K. Hunt. S.M.

Mannix (of the Bureau of Free Love)

V. Ross

"As I was coming from St. Ives,
I met a man with seven wives."

—Nursery rhyme.

Itch (the village idiot)

W. Pringle

"Thou wilt play thy part full well brother."

—Anonymous.

Szczopenowska(agent for Fluenzol)

N. Whiteman

"Oh. what a fall there was my country-men,
When you and I and all of us fell down and bloody tyranny
Flourished over us."

—H. Mackenzie.

Craig Kennedy (a scientific detective)

C. Moss

"There is a conspiracy of silence against me."

—T. A. Hunter

Miss Trotsky (a Bolshevixen)

Miss M. Milesi

"Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night."

—Wm. Blake,

Margot Asquith (a woman of no importance).

E. K. Rishworth

"His beauty smoothed earth's furrowed face,
He gave me tokens three:—
A look, a touch of his winsome mouth
And a wild raspberry."
—Francis Thompson (with variations!)

Vyrn Evans (an English gentleman)

S. C. W. Watkins

"Oh, I am a cook and a captain bold,
And mute of the Nancy brig."
—Composed by E. Evans personally

Harcus Plimmer (of Plimmer's steps, pressman)

W. A. Sheat

And if my pen will bring me pelf
Damned if I don't turn Socialist myself."

—B. Murphy

Siberian Sam

C. G. Kirk

page 17

1. Chorus of Bolsheviks.

(Air—"Lil' Liza Jane.")

Solo:
Who are these men, all fearsome browed?
The Bolsheviks.
Who is it sways the trembling crowd?
The Bolsheviks.

All:
Oh, the Bolshies, bad Bolsheviks,
We're the Bolshies, bad Bolsheviks,
We're the Bolshies, bad Bolsheviks.

Solo:
We are really as quiet as lambs,
Are Bolsheviks.
Peaceful as nursemaids pushing prams, Are Bolsheviks.

All:
Oh, the Bolshies, bad Bolsheviks,
We're the Bolshies, bad Bolsheviks.

Solo:
Much and many the tales are told Of Bolsheviks!
Hall of them true as fairy gold To Bolsheviks.

Chorus:
Oh, the Bolshies, etc.

Solo:
Not till you hear St. Peter's hail, Ho, Bolsheviks.
Will you be told the truthful tale, Of Bolsheviks?

Chorus:
Oh, the Bolshies, good Bolsheviks,
We're the Bolshies, good Bolsheviks.

2. Solo:

Siberian Sam.
(Air—"Toreador's Song"'—Carmen.)

See our sabres drawn and ever fiercely gleaming,
See each regimental flag unfurled;
Brothers come and quit your fruitless dreaming,
Come with me, come with me to conquer all the world.
Down your needles, drop your foolish knitting,
Come with me where man's work waits to do.
Pouches and pistols,
These are more fitting,

Hear your country calling loud to you.
Seize your rifles,
And on to battle,
Where the stabbing shots the gloaming tear;
Hear the limbered batteries crack and rattle,
While the sweating drivers shout and swear.
Come then with me, come then with me—Ah!

Southward we'll march to conquer.
South to the sea,
South to the sea,
With all of our trampling armies,
Southwards, who'll march with me.
Though many fall and die,
South to the sea,
Though many fall and die.

(Chorus repeat.)

Where the bayonets fixed in scattered rows are shining,
And the batteries dug and hidden deep,
Where the troops upon the firestep lining,
Pray for guns, pray for guns, their weakening front to sweep;
Where the endless column marching. Seeming
From the dusk to dawning of the day, Crackling of rifles,
Starshells are gleaming,
Wounded scattered lying by the way.
Hear the aeroplanes
With roar arising,
Hovering on high above the way;
See the bold Cossacks danger despising,
Rushing foremost to the fray. (Chorus.)

3. Solo,

(.Air—'Dividing the Spoil ")

Itch:

The one who would rule in the Bolshevik school
Said I was the fool of the village,
For come there what may, I guess I've my say
When it comes to dividing the pillage.
If I think the moon cheese I believe what I please,
I suppose you can't seize on the reason.
For the mystery is one I will tell to my son,
When my son is the star of the season.

page 18

All:
Yes, the silly poor mutt has gone clean off his nutt.
When he thinks him the star of the season.

Itch:
Oh! they say I am mad, which is all very sad,
If it chanced not to be so amusing.
Yes, they think one so gassey, should be Honourable Massey,
And say I'm so classy—refusing.
See there peace in the sky as you'll see by and bye,
And you wonder my words did not trouble you;
You'll be sorry one night, when you find that your plight
Is that society, I.W.W.

All:
Well, its rather a dream to see ships in the stream
That are manned by the I.W.W.

Solo.

(Air—Specially written by W. H. Stainton.)

(Margot sings.)
I am a much maligned maiden fair.
And this last insult is all I can bear,
For I've a sensitive heart.

Literary longings I've always had,
But my intentions were never bad,
For I've a sensitive heart.
But when a publishing firm I knew,
Offered a ceol ten thousand to Conceal my sensitive heart,
What could I think, and what you do?
If a respectable firm you knew
An offer did impart?

So a few stories I revealed,
(Things that had better lain concealed Of my sensitive heart.
Gladstone and Goblets and gamblit came in,
And something else that resembled To a sensitive heart.
But it was a success you know,
All of my friends have assured me Bless their sensitive hearts.
And the young royalties rolling in,
And as for critics, oh, what din
To a sensitive heart.
So off, to Russia, at last I've rushed
And I'm not lightly aside to brushed,
For all my sensitive heart.
More material here I seek
For a news column in "Once a week
Run by a sensitive heart.