How Herman Won The Cross

ONCE in a blue eternity they gave us dabs of rum To close the seams 'n' keep the flume in liquor-tight condition; But, soft 'n' sentimental, when the long, cold evenin's come, I'd dream me nibs was dronking' to the height of his ambition, With rights of suction over all the breweries there are, Where barrels squat, like Brahma gods, in Mother Hardy's bar.

I had me fit of longin' on the night the Ger- mans came, All breathin' lioke a gas attack. The air was halcholic. We smelt 'em in the darkness, 'n' our rage went up in flame. It was envy, squealin' envy, put the ginger in the frolic. We shot 'em full of spelter, then went over it to spite The swines what drunk the liquor that was ours by common right.

"If this ain't stopped, 'n' quick," sez we, "there won't be left a drop To celebrate the vict'ry when we capture their position." I'm prowlin' blind, when sharp there comes a fond, familiar plop- Swung round a post, a German in a pitiful condition Looms over me. He's sprung a cork, and shales a flask on high, 'N' sings of beer that touchin' it would make a butcher cry.

Sez he: "Berloffed kamarid, you haf some drinks mit you." I meant to spike him where he waved, but altered me intention. 'N' "If you put it thus," sez I, "I don't care if I do." We had a drink together. There's a tem- por'y suspension Of hostilities to sample contraband 'n' other stuff In the enemy's possession. Which I think he's had enough.

That Hun had thirty pockets, 'n' he'd stowed a flask in each, 'N' presently I'm thinkin' I could love him like a brother. He's talkin' fond 'n' friendly in outlandish parts of speech. "You're prisoner of war," I sez; 'n' then we had another. Ten flasks he pours into his hat, 'n' fills it to the brim, 'N' weeps 'n' sez his frau she will be waitin' up for him.

We drink each other's health, 'n' know no henmity nor fear. I see I've got to pinch him, but he's out to do his div. in, 'N' don't care if he don't go home till day- light doth appear. Sez he: "I pud you home to bed upside dot 'ouse you live in." He shakes his finger in me eye: "Mein friendt, you're preddy trunk!" Then arm in arm through No Man's land we does a social bunk.

There's Fear afoot. Comes more than once the glug of sudden death. We're rockin' fine 'n' careless where the rifle fire is breakin', 'N' singin' most uproar'ous, in the bomb's disgustin' breath, Of girls, 'n' drink, 'n' cheerful sprees, 'n' 'Herman thinks he's takin' A cobber home to somewhere in an subbub damp 'n' dim, Whereas I know fer certain it is me is takin' him.

Somehow, sometime, I lands him where he's safely put to bed. I wake nex' day, 'n' holy smoke! I'm pri- soner with the German. Me mouth is like an ashpan, there's hot fish- bolts in me head, 'N' through the barb-wire peerin' is me foreigh cobber 'Erman. "Ve capdure each lasd nighd," sez he "you home haf bring me, boss." For bravery in takin' me, he got the Iron Cross!

WHEN TOMMY CAME MARCHING HOME.

DEVINE came back the other day. We'd planned a great home-comin'. No long trombone we had to play, No fine, heroic drummin'. With two sticks and a milk-can Borne Put up a martial clatter, While Carter blew a bullock-horn Says Tom Devine, with healthy scorn; "Gorstruth! what is the matter?"

We set three colored petticoats From Baker's chimneys blowin' ('Tis not the bravest flag that floats, Yet 'twas the finest goin'); We cheered our hero all we knew, No song of praise neglectin', To show our pride as he limped through He merely spat and snorted, "Who "The deuce are yous expectin'?"

They lured him to my shop somehow, And sued for news of battle. Says Tom: "Who rides the mail track now? Who herdin' Stringer's cattle?" A dint the Turk put in his head. He covers with a ringlet. He'd won a medal, so we read. "I might 'ave 'ad it pinched," he said- "I've sewn it in my singlet!"

Says Cole "But, 'struth, you must 'ave seen A fearful swag of scrappin'." And Tom agrees "Where men are keen That's pretty sure to 'appen. One night a little bloke from Hay Who plugged a Pentridge warder Got such a doin' that at day, Amazed, they ticked him for a stray Distinguished Service Order.

"Then Sydney Bob was rather vexed With Green--who'd pinched his braces, That was 'continued in our next' In half a score of places. McCubbin threw his grub at Lea (You know how sticky stew is); They fought till neither man could see. You talk of fight--Gorstrike me, we Saw stacks of it at Suez!"