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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 7, Issue 3 (July 1, 1932)

L.S.D.-ceit

L.S.D.-ceit.

The mocker, Money, is the root of this evil. Money is not a square root. It is an L.S.D.-ceit, a canker in the Casabianca, and a blight on the Upas tree; it is the medium of derange between Nature and ill-nature, and has done more harm in the world than good intentions and bad jokes. However, the joke's on us, and with your permission, or without it as the case may or may not be, we will incubate a cash-registration of L.S.D.-lirium:—

This is a tale
Of Old King Kale,
Who rules the earth
For what it's worth.
Who owns the goose,
Whose favourite ruse
Is laying jokes
With golden yokes.
Old King Kale
Has “pitched the tale,”
Since Man was young.
King Kale has stung
Humanity
To vanity,
And pulled its foot
With take-and-put.
King Kale is old,
And cold with gold,
And we must rust,
Or chase his “dust.”
We must admit
He does his bit,
But oft' he'll frown
And let us down.
But here's the pinch,
He gives an inch,
And—sad to tell—
He takes an “ell.”
And yet we must,
Unless we'd bust,
Explore the trail,
With Old King Kale.

(N.B.—“Kale” is Tuscan or Cosmetic, or something, for “Oscar,” “Hoot,” “Spondulix,” or “Dough.”)