Hello, Soldier!

BACK again 'n' nothin' missin' barrin' arf a hand, Where an Abdul bit me, chokin' in the Holy Land. 'Struth, they got some dirty fighters in the Moslem pack, Bull-nosed slugs their sneakin' snipers spat ters in yer back Blows a gapin' sort iv pit in What a helephant could sit in. Bounced their bullets, if yeh please, Like the 'oppers in a cheese, Off me rubber pelt in droves, Moppin' up the other coves. So here's me once more at large in Bay-street, Port, a bloomin' Sargin'. "Cri, it jumbo." "Have a beer." "Wot-o, Anzac; you're a dear."

Back once more on Moley's corner, loafin' like a dook; Back on Bourke, me livin' image, not a slinkin' spook; Solid ez the day I started, medals on me chest, Switchin' with me pert melacca, swankin' with the best Where the little wimmen's flowin', With their veils 'n' ribbons blowin'- See their eyes of bloo 'n' brown Butterflyin' 'bout the town! Back at 'ome-oh, 'struth, it's good! Long, cold lagers from the wood, Ev'ry cobber jumpin' at you, Strangers duckin' in to bat you- "Good ole Jumbo, how're you?" "'Ello, soldier, howja do?"

Back at Grillo's where the nigger googs his whitey eyes, Plucks his black ole greasy banjo while the cod-steak fries; Fish 'n' chips, a pint iv local, and the tidy girl Dancin' glad attendance on yeh 'zif yeh was an earl; Trailin' round the blazin' city, Feelin' all content 'n' pretty, Where the smart procession goes, Prinked 'n' polished to the shows, One among the happy drive- 'Sworth the world to be alive! Dames ez smilin' ez a mother, Ev'ry man ver fav'rit brother: "'Ello, Jumbo, how is it ?" "Arr there, soldier! Good 'n' fit?"

Takin' hozone at St. Kilder's good enough for me, Seein' Summer and the star-blink simmer in the sea; Cantin' up me bloomin' cady, toyin' with a cig., Blowin' out me pout a little, chattin' wide 'n' big When there's skirt around to skite to. Say, 'oo has a better right to? Done me bit 'n' done it well, Got the tag iv plate to tell; Square Gallipoli surviver, With a touch iv Colonel's guyver. "Sargin' Jumbo, good ole son!" "Soldier, soldier, you're the one!"

Back again, a wounded hero, moochin' up 'n' down, Feelin' 'sthough I'd got a fond arf-Nelson on the town; Never was so gay, so 'elp me, never felt so kind; Fresh from 'ell a paradise ain't very hard to find. After filth, 'n' flies, 'n' slaughter Fat brown babies in the water, Singin' people on the sand Makes a boshter Happy Land! War what toughened hone 'n' hide Turned a feller soft inside! Great it is, the 'earty greetin's, Friendly digs, 'n' cheerful meetin's "'Ello, Jumbo, howja do?" "Soldier, soldier, how're you?"

THE MORALIST.

THREE other soldier blokes 'n' me packed 'ome from foreign lands; Bit into each the God of Battles' everlastin' brands. They limped in time, 'n' coughed in tune, 'n' one was short an ear, 'N' one was short a tier of ribs 'n' all was short of beer. I speaks up like a temp'rance gent, But ever since the sky was bent The thirst of man 'as never yet bin squenched with argument.

Bill's skull was welded all across, Jim 'ad an eye in soak, Sam 'obbled on a patent leg, 'n' every man was broke; They sang a song of "Mother" with their faces titled up. Says Bill-o: "'Ere's yer 'eroes, sling the bloomin' votive cup! We got no beer, the soup was bad- Now oo will stand the soldier lad The swag of honest liquor that for years he hasn't 'ad?"

Sez I: "Respeck yer uniform! Remember oo you are!" They'd pinched a wicker barrer, 'arf a pram 'n' 'arf a car. In this ole Bill-o nestled 'neath a blanket, on his face A someone's darlin' sorter look, a touch iv boy'ood's grace. The gentle ladies stopped to 'ear, 'N' dropped a symperthetic tear, A dollar or a deener for the pore haff1ict dear.

The others trucked the wounded to a hentrance up a lane. I sez: "Sich conduck's shameful!" Bill-o took to ease his pain One long 'un and another. The conductor picked his brand; The gripman lent his countenance to wot he 'ad in 'and. And when they moved their stand 'twas Sam Lay pale 'n' peaceful in the pram, 'N' twenty flappers stroked his paw, 'n' said he was a lamb.

The gathered in the tokens and they blooed 'em as above, While Jim-o done the hinvalid 'oom Sammy had to shove. Sez I: "No noble 'eroes what's bin fightin' for their king Should smirch theirselves by doin' this dis- 'onerable thing." But fine old gents 'n' donahs prim They stopped 'n' slid the beans to Jim. You betcher life I let 'im hear just what I though of 'im.

Nine, g.m. at St. Kilder, saw the finish of the prowl. Each 'ad his full-'n'-plentv, and was blowin' in the tow'l. As neither bloke cud stand alone, they leaned 'n' argufied Which was the patient sufferer oo's turn it was to ride. Each 'eld a san'wich and a can. Sez I: "This shouldn't 'ave began- 'Tain't conduck wot it worthy of a soldier and a man."

I cud 'a' cried with injured pride. Afore a push the three Got scrappin', vague 'n' foolish, which the cripple boy should be. Sam slips his scientific leg, 'n' flings it in the drain- "I'll auto 'ome," he sez, "or never see me 'ome again." But I am thinkin' 'ard oo he Tucked 'elpiess in the pram might be. Comes sudden reckerlection. Great Gohan- ners, it is me!