Hello, Soldier! | Page 6

break
the two-up school,?I takes a screw at Molly. With a grin that
ain't divine?He's toyin' with a scar of old I reckernise
as mine.
'N' so I'm layin' for it, 'n' I'm wonderin' how
'n' what.?We're signed on with the Germans, 'n' there
ain't a vacant date;?But sure it's comin' to me, 'n' it's comin' 'ard
'n' 'ot.?Me lurk is patient waitin', but I'm trimmin'
while I wait?A brick to jab or swing with, in a willin'
tatertate.
Oh, judge me wonder! There's a scrim that
follers on a raid.?I'm roughin' it all-in with Hans. He sock
me such a bat?I slides on somethin' narsty, 'n' me little grave
is made;?But Molly butts my Hun, 'n' leaves no face
beneath his hat,?'N', "'Scuse me, Mister Herr," sez he, "I have a lien on that!"
He helps me under cover, 'n' he 'ands me
somethin' wet?(I've got a lick or two that leaves me feelin'
pretty sick).?"Lor love yeh, ole John Hop," sez I, "yiv
buried me in debt."?"Don't minton ut at all," he sez, 'n' eyes
me arf-a-tick.?'N' back there in the trench I sits, 'n' trims
another brick.
'Tis all this how a month or more; then
Mollynoo sez he:?"Come aisy, Jumm, yeh loafer, little hell 'n'
all to view.?A job most illegant is on, cut out fer you 'n'
me.?The damnedest, dirtiest fighter on the
Continent is you,?Bar one, yeh gougin' thafe, 'n' that is
Sargin' Mollynoo!"
I take, with knife 'n' pistol, arf a brick to line
me shirt.?We creeps a thousan' yards or so to jigger
up a gun?Which seven Huns is workin' on the Irish like
a squirt.?We gets across them, me 'n' him. I pots
the extra one;?Mick chokes his third in comfort, 'n',
be'old, the thing is done!
He stands above me, rakin' sweat from off his
gleamin' nut.?"Me dipper's leakin', Mick," sez I; "me
leg is bit in two."?Sez he: "Bleed there in comfort, I'm for
bringin' help, ye scut."?He's back in twenty minutes, with a dillied
German crew.?"Three'll carry in the gun," sez he, "the
rest will carry you."
I dunno how he got 'em, but he made them
barrer me.?They lugged the gun before him, 'n' he
yarded them like geese.?Then Mickie s'lutes the Major. "They're in
custody," sez he,?"Fer conduc' calculated to provoke a breach
iv peace,?A-tearin' iv me uniform, 'n' 'saultin' the
po-lice."
Then down he dumped. His wounds would
make a 'arf a column list.?When hack to front I chucks me bricks 'n'
smiles the best I can.?He grins at me: "Yer right," sez he, "Hold
out yer bla'-guard fist,?I couldn't fight yeh, blarst yeh, if yeh dinted
in me pan.?This messin' round wid Germans makes a
chicken iv a man."
JAM.?(A Hymn of Hate).
WHAT is meant by active service
'Ere where sin is leakin' loose,?'N' the oldest 'and's as nervis
As a dog-bedevilled goose,?Has bin writ be every poet
What can rhyme it worth a dam,?But the 'orror as we know it
Is jist jam, jam, JAM!?Oh, the 'ymn of 'ate we owe it--?Stodgy, splodgy, seepy, soaky, sanguinary
jam!
There's the "fearful roar iv battle,"
What gets underneath yer 'at,?Mooin' like a million cattle
Each as big as Ararat;?There's the red field green 'n' slippy
(And I'm cleaner where I am),?But the thing that's got me nippy
It is jam, jam, JAM!?Druv us sour it has, 'n' dippy,?Sticky, sicky, slimy, sloppy, stummick-strafin'
jam!
Of the mud that's in the trenches
Writers make a solemn fuss;?For the vermin 'n' the stenches
Little ladies pity us;?But the yearn that's honest dinkum,
'N' the prayer what ain't a sham?Is that Fritz may bust 'n' sink 'em
Ships of jam, jam, JAM!?For we bolt 'em, chew 'em, drink 'em,?Million billion bar'ls of beastly, cloyin'
clammy jam!
We are sorry-sick of peaches,
'N' we're full right up of plum,?'N' innards fairly screeches
When the tins of apple come.?Back of Blighty piled in cases,
Jist as close as they can cram,?Fillin' all the open spaces,
Is the 'jam, jam, JAM!?Oh, the woe the soldiers face is,?Monday, Sunday, ruddy, muddy, boundless
bogs of jam.
WEEPIN' WILLIE.
WHEY our trooper hit wide water every
heart was yearin' back?To the little 'ouse at Coogee or a hut at Barrenjack.
She was 'ookin' up to spike the stars, or rootin'
in the wave,?An' me liver turned a hand spring with each
buck the beggar gave.?Then we pulls a sick 'n' silly smile 'n' tips a
saucy lid,?Crackin' hardy. Willie didn't. Willie
snivelled like a kid.
At Gallip' the steamer dumped us, 'n' we got
right down to work,?Whoopin' up the hill splendacious, playin'
tiggie with the Turk.?When the stinkin' Abdul hit us we curled
down upon a stone,?'N' we yelled for greater glory, crackin' 'ardy
on our own.?Not so Willie. He was cursin', cold ez death
'n' grey ez steel,?'N' the smallest thing that busted made the
little blighter squeal.
In the bitter day's that follered, spillin' life beside
the sea,?We would fake a spry expression for the things
that had to be,?Always dressin' up the winder, crackin' 'ardy
though we felt?Fearful creepy in the whiskers, very cold beneath
the belt.?But his jills would sniff 'n' shiver in the mother
of a fright,?'N' go blubberin' 'n' quakin' out to waller in
the fight.
In the West we liked the weather, 'n' we fattened
in the mud,?Crackin' 'ardy, stewed together, rats an'
slurry men 'n'