While The Billy BoilsSearchThe Premier and the SocialistWere walking through the State:They wept to see the Savings BankSuch funds accumulate.“If these were only cleared away,”They said, “it would be great.”
“If three financial amateursControlled them for a year,Do you suppose,” the Premier said,“That they would get them clear?”“I think so,” said the Socialist;”They would—or very near!”
“If we should try to raise some cashOn assets of our own,Do you suppose,” the Premier said,“That we could float a loan?”“I doubt it,” said the Socialist,And groaned a doleful groan.
“Oh, Savings, come and walk with us!”The Premier did entreat;“A little walk, a little talk,Away from Barrack Street;My Socialistic friend will guideYour inexperienced feet.”
“We do not think,” the Savings said,“A Socialistic crank,Although he chance just now to holdA legislative rank,Can teach experienced Banking menThe way to run a Bank.”
The Premier and the SocialistThey passed an Act or soTo take the little Savings outAnd let them have a blow.“We’ll teach the Banks,” the Premier said,“The way to run the show.
“There’s Tom Waddell—in Bank FinanceCan show them what is what.I used to prove not long agoHis Estimates were rot.But that—like many other things—I’ve recently forgot.
“Advances on a dried-out farmAre what we chiefly need,And loans to friends of Ms.L.A.Are very good, indeed,See how the back-block CockatoosAre rolling up to feed.”
“But not on us,” the Savings cried,Falling a little flat,“We didn’t think a man like youWould do a thing like that;For most of us are very small,And none of us are fat.”
“This haughty tone,” the Premier said,“Is not the proper line;Before I’d be dictated toMy billet I’d resign!”“How brightly,” said the Socialist,“Those little sovereigns shine.”
The Premier and the SocialistThey had their bit of fun;They tried to call the Savings backBut answer came there none,Because the back-block CockatoosHad eaten every one.