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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 14, Issue 1 (April 1, 1939)

Whirley-Giggles

Whirley-Giggles.

What makes the world go round and round,
Is it the rouble, mark and pound?
Is it the men of blood and fear
Who stimulate this restless sphere?
Or is it love, as poets propound,
That makes the world go round and round.
Is it the tense affairs of nations
That influence the world's gyrations?
Methinks it's something far more sound
That makes the world go round and round.
To put the query clear and fair,
Let's promulgate a questionnaire:
Why does a cow look so morose,
And pigs so uniformly gross?
Why does the horse look so forlorn,
And sheep deplore that they were born?
What makes a moose look sick with grief,
The ox depressed beyond belief?
To answer why they're each so dreary
Necessitates another query.
What raises man above the class
Of animals that live on grass?
It can't be intellect, my lad,
With half the world entirely mad.
The explanation's simply this—
A fact so many people miss—
Man's raised above the sheep and calf,
Because he has the power to laugh.
No other animal on earth,
Can emulate his vocal mirth,
Except perhaps the kookaburra,
Who lacks the mirth, although he's thorough.
No other beast can shake the rafter
With gusty gasps of gurgling laughter.
No other species can express,
In such a way, its happiness,
Which helps to prove the truth profound;
That laughter makes the world go round.
A laugh is worth a ton of wealth,
It clears the mind, improves the health,
Corrects the liver in a tick
And gives the heart an added kick.
A laugh in time can save a nation
From almost any situation.
Dictators who could laugh a lot
Could never hatch a sticky plot.
They'd never want to rule the earth
If they obeyed the rule of mirth.
And trouble would be cut in half
If diplomats learnt how to laugh,
Instead of starting agitations
And breaking consular relations.
The way to settle all the fuss
That daily is retailed to us
And makes us jitterously nervous,
Is, liven up the foreign service.
Let Gilly Potter make whoopee
With Hitler's hosts in Germany.
Let Gracie Fields and Harry Tait
Make merry on affairs of state.
With Mussolini, in the forum
Of Rome, without too much decorum.
George Roby and the brothers Marx
Could entertain, with divers larks,
The Soviet in Leningrad
And prove that Stalin's not so bad.
Our emissaries everywhere
Should have a free and festive air.
Their orders on the world's behalf
Should be, “Go out and get a laugh”
A laugh is understood by all,
It is a clear and clarion call,
It is a universal canto,
A brotherly Expressperanto,
Which makes us one, to say the least,
And raises man above the beast.