THE          SPADGER

                          BY JOHN MASEFIELD, JUNIOR

               (No relation to the immortal poet of that name)

               DEDICATED GRATEFULLY TO MR.     AUSTIN HARRISON

                         There was a       spadger
                            Went up a         spout;
                         There came a       thunderstorm,
                            And washed the         out.
                         The    little spadger
                            Sat on the      grass,
                         And told the     thunderstorm
                            To      its           .
                         And when the      storm was done,
                            And all the      rain,
                         The     little spadger
                            Went         up again.
                         There came a       spadger hawk
                            And speid the        snuggery,
                         And with his       claws he tore
                             That            to            .
                         There came a       thunderbolt
                             From the        hand of God;
                         It hit that      spadger hawk
                             And killed the             .
                         There is a      moral
                             To this      moral story ---
                         If you goes up the     spout
                             You goes to      glory.<>
                         {230}




   [DAVID HAMISH JENKINS, a native of Merthyr Tydfil, originally studied painting, and produced several excellent pictures.  At the age of twenty-one he took up the study of the classics, and occupied the position of classical master at several public schools.  Whilst in London he met Aleister Crowley, whose poetical works had a great charm for him.  Jenkins was a prolific writer, but unfortunately, little of his work was published before his death at the early age of thirty-three.  He died in March 1911, mourned by a large circle of friends.  E. W.]