[Editor: A poem regarding a member of a local council. Published in Truth (Sydney), 6 July 1913.]
An Ultimo Ultimatum.
A right good chip of a tough old block;
A man with his father’s nerve.
He takes his stand as firm as a rock,
With neither flinch nor swerve.
Son of a fighting sire grim,
A warrior stout and brave;
Those who would dare a scrap with him
Would yell for help to save.
When England fought at Agincourt,
Mid slaughtered Frenchies messy;
Oh, little then their leader thought
Of great, undying Crecy.
That battle’s just been fought once more,
And some folk did embarrass.
Some aldermen fell scared and sore
At “charges” led by Harris.
Truth (Sydney, NSW), 6 July 1913, p. 5