The Coo-ee Reciter: Humorous, Pathetic, Dramatic, Dialect, Recitations & Readings

AUSTRALIAN, BRITISH, AND AMERICAN AUTHORS.
HUMOROUS, PATHETIC, DRAMATIC, DIALECT, RECITATIONS & READINGS.
WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED, LONDON, MELBOURNE & TORONTO.
( The Tale of a Returned Australian Contingenter done into verse. )
I killed a man at Graspan, I killed him fair in fight; And the Empire's poets and the Empire's priests Swear blind I acted right. The Empire's poets and Empire's priests Make out my deed was fine, But they can't stop the eyes of the man I killed From starin' into mine.
I killed a man at Graspan, Maybe I killed a score; But this one wasn't a chance-shot home, From a thousand yards or more. I fired at him when he'd got no show; We were only a pace apart, With the cordite scorchin' his old worn coat As the bullet drilled his heart.
I killed a man at Graspan, I killed him fightin' fair; We came on each other face to face, An' we went at it then and there. Mine was the trigger that shifted first, His was the life that sped. An' a man I'd never a quarrel with Was spread on the boulders dead.
I killed a man at Graspan; I watched him squirmin' till He raised his eyes, an' they met with mine; An' there they're starin' still. Cut of my brother Tom, he looked, Hardly more'n a kid; An', Christ! he was stiffenin' at my feet Because of the thing I did.
I killed a man at Graspan; I told the camp that night; An' of all the lies that ever I told That was the poorest skite. I swore I was proud of my hand-to-hand, An' the Boer I'd chanced to pot, An' all the time I'd ha' gave my eyes To never ha' fired that shot.
I killed a man at Graspan; An hour ago about, For there he lies with his starin' eyes, An' his blood still tricklin' out. I know it was either him or me, I know that I killed him fair, But, all the same, wherever I look, The man that I killed is there.
I killed a man at Graspan; My first and, God! my last; Harder to dodge than my bullet is The look that his dead eyes cast. If the Empire asks for me later on It'll ask for me in vain, Before I reach to my bandolier To fire on a man again.