Joe’s Orchid
It took a little time to grow,
Joe!
The sprouting of its leaves was slow,
We know;
But now its shining buds unfold,
Bright as the glittering Transvaal gold;—
’Tis worthy of a special “show,”
Joe!
’Twas pestered by an insect foe,
Joe!
The horrid creature wouldn’t go
Below;—
The native, gnawing, noxious Boer
Clung to its very root and core,
And tried your little temper so!
Joe!
But now admiring thanks we owe
Joe!
To you who forced the flower to blow,
Although
The trail of human blood and pain
Has left upon its leaves a stain;—
But that you cannot help, we know,
Joe!
Gorgeous the golden blossoms glow,
Joe!
Can England such a plant forego?
Why, no!
Your skill in Orchid cultivation
Has given us a conquered nation;—
But,—make you Premier? Oh, go slow,
Joe!