BUNTY.
With delightful memories of Mu. Graham Moffat’s play “Bunty Pulls the Strings,” tine following dainty verses will-be of appealing interest.
Eternal Bunty, iunoceutly-wiso You come to cheer our lonely hearts again; For you have always lived in some " disguise, . Wee Buntv mother; miuiager ot men I And as you, with your immemorial guile, Twist round your little fingers clumsy men. We wriggle helplessly, then, with your smile; Who wouldn’t be henpecked by such a hen? Without you, Bunty, what would we men be But sodden, broken wreckage, tem-pest-whirled? Then with your maiden-meek sagacity You pull the strings—the .heurt- - strings—of the world. .Wo see the purpose underneath your mirth, Yet meekly follow you—no more alone. Ah, 1 ucky we, tho Weelyums of this •earth, Wlio have a wilful* Bunty of our own ! - Arthur H. Adams, in tho “Bulletin.”
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/GIST19150810.2.68
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Gisborne Times, Volume XLV, Issue 4004, 10 August 1915, Page 6
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138BUNTY. Gisborne Times, Volume XLV, Issue 4004, 10 August 1915, Page 6
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