Digger Smith

by C. J. Dennis

Half a Man

WASH me 'ands uv 'im," I tells 'em, straight.

"You women can do wot yeh dash well like.

I leave this 'arf a man to 'is own fate;

I've done me bit, an' now I'm gone on strike.

Do wot yeh please; but don't arsk 'elp from me;
'E's give me nerves; so now I'll let 'im be."
Doreen an' ole Mar Flood 'as got a scheme.

They've been conspirin' for a week or more

About this Digger Smith, an' now they dream

They've got 'is fucher waitin' in cool store

To 'and 'im out, an' fix 'im up for life.
But they've got Buckley's, as I tells me wife.
I've seen 'em whisperin' up in our room.

Now they wants me to join in the debate;

But, "Nix," I tells 'em. "I ain't in the boom,

An' Digger Smith ain't risin' to me bait;

'E's fur too fly a fish for me to catch,
An' two designin' women ain't 'is match."
I puts me foot down firm, an' tells 'em, No!

Their silly plan's a thing I wouldn't touch.

An' then me wife, for 'arf an hour or so,

Talks to me confident, of nothin' much;

Then, 'fore I know it, I am all red 'ot
Into the scheme, an' leader uv the plot.
'Twas Mar Flood starts it. She got 'old uv 'im--

You know the way they 'ave with poor, weak men--

She drops a tear or two concernin' Jim;

Tells 'im wot women 'ave to bear; an' then

She got 'im talkin', like a woman can.
'E never would 'ave squeaked to any man.
She leads 'im on--It's crook the way they scheme

To talk about this girl 'e's left be'ind.

Not that she's pryin'! Why, she wouldn't dream!--

But speakin' uv it might jist ease 'is mind.

Then, 'fore 'e knows, 'e's told, to 'is su'prise,
Name an' address--an' colour uv 'er eyes!
An' then she's off 'ere plottin' with Doreen--

Bustin' a confidence, I tells 'em, flat.

But all me roustin' leaves 'em both serene

Women don't see a little thing like that.

An' I ain't cooled off yet before they've got
Me workin' for 'em in this crooked plot.
Nex' day Mar Flood she takes 'er Sund'y dress

An' 'er best little bonnet up to town.

'Er game's to see the girl at this address

An' word 'er in regard to comin' down

To take Smith be su'prise. My part's to fix
A meetin' so there won't be any mix.
I tips, some'ow, that girl won't 'esitate.

She don't. She comes right back with Mar nex' day,

All uv a fluster. When I seen 'er state

I thinks I'd best see Digger straight away;

'Cos, if I don't, 'e's bound to 'ear the row,
With 'er: "Where is 'e? Can't I see 'im now?"
I finds 'im in the paddick down at Flood's.

I 'ums an' 'ars a bit about the crops.

'E don't say nothin': goes on baggin' spuds.

"'Ow would yeh like," I sez to 'im, an' stops.

"'Ow would it be" . . . 'E stands an' looks at me
"Now, wot the 'Ell's got into you?" sez 'e.
That don't restore me confidence a bit.

The drarmer isn't goin' as I tipped.

I corfs, an' makes another shot at it;

While 'e looks at me like 'e thinks I'm dipped.

"Well--jist suppose," I sez; an' then I turn
An' see 'er standin' there among the fern.
She don't want no prelimin'ries, this tart;

She's broke away before they rung the bell;

She's beat the gun, an' got a flyin' start.

Smith makes a funny noise, an' I sez, "'Ell"

Because I tumbles that I'm out uv place:
But, as I went, I caught sight uv 'er face.
That's all I want to know. An', as I ran,

I 'ears 'er cry, "My man! Man an' a 'arf!

Don't fool me with yer talk uv 'arf a man!". . . .

An' then I 'ears ole Digger start to larf.

It was a funny larf, so 'elp me bob:
Fair in the middle uv it come a sob. . . .
I don't see Digger till the other night.

"Well, 'Arf-a-man," I sez. "'Ow goes it now?"

"Yes, 'arf a man," sez 'e. "Yeh got it right;

I can't change that, alone, not any'ow.

But she is mendin' things." 'E starts to larf.
"Some day," 'e sez, "she'll be the better 'arf."

XI. SAWIN' WOOD

Sawin' Wood

WONDERED wot was doin'. First I seen
Ole Missus Flood wave signals to Doreen.

I'm in the paddick slashin' down some ferns;

She's comin' up the road; an' if she turns

An 'andspring I won't be su'prised a bit,
The way she's caperin', an' goin' it.
She yells out some remark when she gets near,
Which I don't catch, I'm too fur off to 'ear.

An' then Doreen comes prancin' to our door,

An' Missus Flood she sprints, an' yells some more;

My wife runs to the gate an' waves 'er arms. . . .
But I lays low; I'm used to these alarms.
A marri'd bloke, in time, 'e learns a bit;
An' 'e ain't over keen to throw a fit

Each time the women calls the fire-reel out.

It's jist a trifle 'e'll know all about

When things get normal. That's a point I learn;
So I saws wood, an' keeps on cuttin' fern.
At least, I cut a few. I got to give
Reel fac's, an' own I was inquisitive;

An' these 'ere fireworks gets me fair perplexed.

I watch the 'ouse to see wot 'appens next;

But nothin's doin'. They jist goes on in,
An' leaves me wonderin' wot's caused the din.
I stands it for a full 'arf-hour or more;
Then gets dead sick uv starin' at the door.

I goes down to the 'ouse an' 'unts about

To find some 'baccer, which I 'ave no doubt

Is in me trousers pocket all the while.
When I goes in, the talk stops, an' they smile.
I sez I've lost me smoke, an' search a bit,
An' ask Doreen wot 'as became uv it,

An' turns the mantelshelf all upside-down,

An' looks inside the teapot, with a frown;

Then gives it up, an' owns I'd like a drink;
When Missus Flood sez, "Bill, _wot do you think_?"
Now, ain't that like a woman? Spare me days,
I'll never get resigned to all their ways.

When they 'as news to tell they smile, an' wink,

An' bottle it, an' ask yeh wot yeh think.

It's jist a silly game uv theirs, an' so,
I gives the countersign: "Wot? I dunno."
"Then guess," she sez. Well, I'm a patient bloke,
So I sits down an' starts to cut a smoke.

(To play this game yeh've got to persevere.)

"Couldn't," I sez, "if I guessed for a year";

Then lights me pipe, an' waits for 'er to speak.
At last she sez, "Jim's comin' back next week!"
"Go on," sez I; an' puffs away awhile
Quite unconcerned. But for to see 'er smile

Was jist a treat: 'er eyes was shinin' bright,

An' she'd grow'd ten years younger in a night.

Jist 'ere, Doreen she sez to me, "Good Lor,
Wot do yeh want two plugs uv 'baccer for?"
I takes me pipe out uv me mouth an' stares,
An' stammers, "Must 'ave found a piece--somewheres."

But, by the way she smiles--so extra sweet--

I know she twigs me game, an' I am beat.

"Fancy," she sez. "Yeh're absent-minded, dear.
Sure there was nothin' else yeh wanted 'ere?"
"Nothin'," I sez, an' feels a first-prize fool;
An' goes outside, an' grabs the nearest tool.

It was the crosscut; so I works like mad

To keep me self-respeck from goin' bad.

"This game," I tells meself, "will do yeh good.
You ain't proficient, yet, at sawin' wood."

XII. JIM

Jim

OW, be the Hokey Fly!" sez Peter Begg.
"Suppose 'e comes 'ome with a wooden leg.

Suppose 'e isn't fit to darnce at all,

Then, ain't we 'asty fixin' up this ball?

A little tournament at Bridge is my
Idear," sez Peter. "Be the Hokey Fly!"
Ole Peter Begg is gettin' on in years.
'E owns a reel good farm; an' all 'e fears

Is that some girl will land 'im, by are by,

An' share it with 'im--be the Hokey Fly.

That's 'is pet swear-word, an' I dunno wot
'E's meanin', but 'e uses it a lot.
"Darncin'!" growls Begg. We're fixin' up the 'all
With bits uv green stuff for a little ball

To welcome Jim, 'oo's comin' 'ome nex' day.

We're 'angin' flags around to make things gay,

An' shiftin' chairs, an' candle-greasin' floors,
'As is our way when blokes come 'ome from wars.
"A little game uv Bridge," sez Peter Begg,
"Would be more decent like, an' p'r'aps a keg

Uv somethin' if the 'ero's feelin' dry.

But this 'ere darncin'! Be the Hokey Fly,

These selfish women never thinks at all
About the guest; they only wants the ball.
"Now, cards," sez Begg, "amuses ev'ry one.
An' then our soldier guest could 'ave 'is fun

If 'e'd lost both 'is legs. It makes me sick

'Ere! Don't yeh spread that candle-grease too thick

Yeh're wastin' it; an' us men 'as to buy
Enough for nonsense, be the Hokey Fly!"
Begg, 'e ain't never keen on wastin' much.
"Peter," I sez, "it's you that needs a crutch.

Why don't yeh get a wife, an' settle down?"

'E looks reel fierce, an' answers, with a frown,

"Do you think I am goin' to be rooked
For 'arf me tucker, jist to get it cooked?"
I lets it go at that, an' does me job;
An' when a little later on I lob

Along the 'omeward track, down by Flood's gate

I meet ole Digger Smith, an' stops to state

Me views about the weather an' the war. . . .
'E tells me Jim gets 'ere nex' day, at four.
An' as we talk, I sees along the road
A strange bloke 'umpin' some queer sort uv load.

I points 'im out to Smith an' sez; "'Oo's that?

Looks like a soldier, don't 'e, be 'is 'at?"

"Stranger," sez Digger, "be the cut uv 'im."
But, trust a mother's eyes. . . . "It's Jim! My Jim!
"My Jim!" I 'ears; an', scootin' up the track
Come Missus Flood, with Flo close at 'er back.

It was a race, for lover an' for son;

They finished neck an' neck; but mother won,

For it was 'er that got the first good 'ug.
(I'm so took back I stands there like a mug.)
Then come Flo's turn; an' Jim an' Digger they
Shake 'ands without no fancy, gran'-stand play.

Yeh'd think they parted yesterd'y, them two.

For all the wild 'eroics that they do.

"Yeh done it, lad," sez Jim. "I knoo yeh would."
"You bet," sez Smith; "but I'm all to the good."
Then, uv a sudden, all their tongues is loosed.
They finds me there an' I am intrajuiced;

An' Jim tells 'ow it was 'e come to land

So soon, while Mar an' Flo each 'olds a 'and.

But, jist as sudden, they all stop an' stare
Down to the 'ouse, at Dad Flood standin' there.
'E's got 'is 'and up shadin' off the sun.
Then 'e starts up to them; but Dad don't run

'E isn't 'owlin' for 'is lost boy's kiss;

'E's got 'is own sweet way in things like this.

'E wanders up, an' stands an' looks at Jim.
An', spare me days, that look was extra grim!
I seen the mother pluckin' at 'er dress;
I seen the girl's white face an' 'er distress.

An' Digger Smith, 'e looks reel queer to me

Grinnin' inside 'imself 'e seemed to be.

At last Dad sez--oh, 'e's a tough ole gun!
"Well, are yeh sorry now for wot yeh done?"
Jim gives a start; but answers with a grin,
"Well, Dad, I 'ave been learnin' discipline.

An' tho' I ain't quite sure wot did occur

Way back"--'e's grinnin' worse--"I'm sorry, sir."

(It beats me, that, about these soldier blokes
They're always grinnin', like all things was jokes.)
P'r'aps Dad is gettin' dull in 'is ole age;
But 'e don't seem to see Jim's cammyflage.

P'r'aps 'e don't want to; for, in 'is ole eye,

I seen a twinkle as 'e give reply.

"Nex' week," 'e sez, "we will begin to cart
The taters. Yeh can make another start."
But then 'e grabs Jim's 'and. I seen the joy
In mother's eyes. "Now, welcome 'ome, me boy,"

Sez Dad; an' then 'e adds, "Yeh've made me proud;"

That's all. An' 'e don't add it none too loud.

Dad don't express 'is feelin's in a shout;
It cost 'im somethin' to git that much out.
. . . . . . . . .
We 'ad the darnce. An', spite uv all Begg's fears,
Jim darnced like 'e could keep it up for years;

Mostly with Flo. We don't let up till three;

An' then ole Peter Begg, Doreen an' me

We walk together 'ome, an' on the way,
Doreen 'as quite a lot uv things to say.
"Did you see Flo?" sez she. "Don't she look grand?
That Jim's the luckiest in all the land--

An' little Smith--that girl uv 'is, I'm sure,

She'll bring 'im 'appiness that will endure."

She 'ugs my arm, then sez, "'Usband or wife,
If it's the right one, is the wealth uv life."
I sneaks a look at Begg, an' answers, "Yes,
Yeh're right, ole girl; that's the reel 'appiness.

An' if ole, lonely growlers was to know

The worth uv 'appy marridge 'ere below,

They'd swap their bank-books for a wife," sez I.
Sez Peter Begg, "Well! Be the--Hokey--Fly!"