STARRY JIM.
Page 14
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By R. T. Nicholson.
I'M READY now anclahere to bet A goodly sum—we'll say a fiver-That you have hardly ever met Jim Jackson's equal as a driver.
I've got a fiver, and I'll risk it- Jim Jackson fairly took the biscuit.
For Jim was always on his job,
Was always anxious—more than willing— To earn his modest forty. bob,
(A "bob," of course, is slang for "shilling"). He never asked for "rise" or "bonus": Ali, friends—the bright example shown us!
I never Saw Jim Jackson scowl: . He looked on life without misgiving : I never heard him grouse or growl About the awful cost of living. No, Jim was always bright and sunny,. And didn't seem to care for money.
Jim Jackson never stopped away ; He never shirked, or had a day off : He never took a holiday, Was never ill, or had to "lay off." He " stuck " (not struck) it, ever ready, He "stuck it,"—sturdy, stout and steady.
For drink he didn't care a rap. Tobacco ?—Jim was not a smoker ; He never wasted time on Nap, Or Crown and Anchor, Crib. or Poker ; And sport he simply hated,—e.g., He never backed the wily gee-gee.
And fronalis lips no word there fell That. might alarm the dear old ladies: He never named the :# eg ion—w ell,
The place. politely known as Hades.
His choice or words was quite a study : He wouldn't call a sunset "ruddy."
He never loitered on his rounds ; He never stopped to tahe a pal on:
And—though a fairy tale it sounds—
He got full forty miles per gallon, Yes, even on our 10-ton lorry. (You don't believe it I—Well, I'm sorry!) B36 Ho stopped at " Robby's " merest sign: Of "Law and Order" he'd a high sense : He never once incurred a fine, Or got endorsement on his licence. He dimmed his light when Law said "Dim it," Nor once exceeded legal limit.
He spent his leisure by the van,
And on it did a lot of good work ; His paint was always spick-and-span, And Scrupulously clean his woodwork. .
His brass showed not a -trace of tarnish. And beautifully bright his varnish.
Ah! how he loved the Temple Press! .
He took in all their publications, And read them through (though I confess I wonder that he had the patience I) At breakfast time, he boned his bloater,
And read that week's Commercial Motor.
That organ through and through he read : He knew his subject—no one better : He knew it all from A to Z- From sparking-plug to carburetter. With all the skilful work that he did, No garage job was ever needed.
A perfect paragon was Jim—
A paragon beyond all doubting. A week ago, I looked at him, And noticed that his wings were sprouting, And round Ilia noble head was showing A halo—very faintly glowing.
And as I gazed, he spread his wings, And soared away, beyond my vision. Perhaps he's now on Saturn's rings,
Or somewhere in the fields Elysian—
Or driving No. 23 bus For Messrs. Phaeton and Phoebus.
Farewell Jim Jackson !—far too good To linger on this putrid planet,
Where—as I've always understood—
Our souls are gilt, our hearts are granite. Drive on, drive on, in regions starry, Where roads (I'm told) are never tarry!