“40 YEARS ON.”
September 28th. 1938 The Daily Telegraph Farming Annual Napier, Hawke’s Bay 17
Hawke’s Bay Personalities in Review.
MR E. B. HELPS
Every little bid ‘helps’ you know,
Quick – Quick or the pen will go.
We’ve sausages here, or chicken and ham,
Anything else that you’d like,” says Bram.
MR E. W. ORMOND
Fine frame and fleece may take the eye,
And catch the bids of some who buy
Without due thought.
The farmer wise is he who knows
The dental excellence of those
The he has bought.
MR F. STEWART
At auctioneering most-adept,
In Southern Hawke’s Bay often kept,
Most busy with oration,
When he’s performing in the pen,
His acrobatic acumen,
Results in price inflation.
MESSRS R. GALLIEN AND E. BALLANTYNE
There’s trouble abrewin’
For Roy and for Ewen
“Please give me a three and you’ll save us from ruin!”
MR MASON WATERWORTH
In Ancient Greece the Golden Fleece
Was dearly won by Jason.
To-day the stuff is cheap enough
On sheep, put up by Mason.
MR J. W. WEDD
On the rails or on the course,
A skilful judge of sheep or horse.
A genial sportsman, may be said.
The man in question…Joseph Wedd.
“ON THE RAILS’
OH, I dearly love on the rails to be,
When the dust is rising thick,
And the haze is such you can hardly see;
The heat nearly makes you sick.
When the yards are almost at bursting strain,
With quite forty thousand ewes,
And the farmer, praying for blessed rain,
Just stands round the pens and stews.
And I dearly love on the rails to stand,
When the Winter winds do blow,
When dreariness covers our chosen land,
With its rain, and hail and snow.
When the farmer who has sheep in to sell,
Looks for a break in the skies,
And hopes against hope that before the bell,
The price for his stock will rise.
When the auctioneers and their merry band,
Say the skies will soon be blue
And the ill-fated Pressman tries his hand,
On paper, long since soaked through.
But Oh how I like on the rails to be
When Springtime is in the air.
The freshening pastures are good to see,
Cheerfulness, easy to share.
MR H. N. STEWART
A warrior bold,
Like the Normans of old,
Whether selling from rostrum or rail.
His commanding imperiousness, whimsical seriousness,
At all times enliven the sale.
MR O. C. M. KROGH
Fifty years in the world of stock.
How many times is that round the clock?
The man who can tell you, if you would know,
Is herewith presented…Oscar Krogh.
MR J. B. THOMPSON
“When laughs come fast…a host of them…
Look hard and you may see,
The source, of course, of most of them
Is genial J.B.
STORTFORD LODGE SALEYARDS viewed from the air. These yards on occasions accommodate over 40,000 sheep.
MR E. BOTHERWAY
In the Dannevirke region
His clients are legion.
They know him at once by his shout.
Every Thursday he’s selling
And constantly yelling
His “Done! Are you done?….Look out.”
MR R. O. CONDON
If you should feel that you’d like, for fun,
To hear a sound like a gatling gun,
Transcending all till the battle’s won,
The sale at Stortford is past and done,
And the boats depart with the setting sun…Then Come.
MR D. H. F. O’DONOGHUE
“You know where they’re from,
And you know how they’ll do.”
Oh the shades of other days,
And of Roy O’Donoghue.
MR L. E. HARRIS
A twitch of the eyelid – a single glance,
And thousands of pounds change hands, perchance.
Cool judgment is needed such dealing to do.
And a difficult man to “harass” is Lou.
MR CHAS. G. AGAR
Did I give you a bid, did you say?
No. It’s no use pointing this way.
I think what you heard
Was the wee dicky bird
That photographers use every day.
MR J. D. SCOTT
MR F. M. WALLACE
A cheerful appearance whatever the day,
In process of freezing, or melting away.
At Stortford Lodge he’s part of the show,
That keeps vendors smiling when prices are low.
MR S. I. DIXON
How oft upon those scorching days
That beckon to the beach to laze
Have we observed amid the haze
A figure cool that must amaze!
One guess – it’s S.I. Dixon.
MR B. W. BOYES
When Brian is tryin’
There’s deafenin’ noise.
It’s no use denyin’
That Boyes will be Boyes.
L.E. HARRIS K.B.E. O.B.E. 1979.