[Editor: A poem written about Jack Lang.]
Mister Lang he spurned the Council of the States that deals with Loan —
“Take away your proferred millions,
I will go upon my own.”
Mister Lang had an impression
That his credit was O.K.
“Not for me,” he told the Council,
“Nothing doing here to-day,”
Mister Lang, he felt the pulses
Of the lords of finance, then
Found them to be most unwilling,
Found them stern, unyielding men.
Men to whom the gift of saying
“No,” was ever at command;
Men who held the fate of nations
In the hollow of their hand.
Men who work upon the notion
That the best security
Is the man who needs the money
To expend productively.
“Mister Lang,” they said, “we’re sorry,
But we really cannot do it,
For a programme such as you have,
Goodness, gracious, why pursue it?”
Then Mister Lang, in anger,
Turns upon the banks and says:
“You’re the cause of the depression
And we’ll down you; spare me days.”
The Brisbane Courier (Brisbane, Qld.), Saturday 24 January 1931, page 18
[Editor: Corrected “proferred” to “proffered”.]