Digger Smith

III. DAD

Dad

've knowed ole Flood this last five year or more;
I knoo 'im when 'is Syd went to the war.
A proud ole man 'e was. But I've watched 'im,

An' seen 'is look when people spoke uv Jim:
As sour a look as most coves want to see.
It made me glad that this 'ere Jim weren't me.
I sized up Flood the first day that we met--
Stubborn as blazes when 'is mind is set,
Ole-fashioned in 'is looks an' in 'is ways,

Believin' it is honesty that pays;
An' still dead set, in spite uv bumps 'e's got,
To keep on honest if it pays or not.
Poor ole Dad Flood, 'e is too old to fight
By close on thirty year; but, if I'm right
About 'is doin's an' about 'is grit,

'E's done a fair bit over 'is fair bit.
They are too old to fight, but, all the same,
'Is kind's quite young enough to play the game.
I've 'eard it called, this war--an' it's the truth--
I've 'eard it called the sacrifice uv youth.
An' all this land 'as reckernized it too,

An' gives the boys the praises that is doo.
I've 'eard the cheers for ev'ry fightin' lad;
But, up to now, I ain't 'eard none for Dad.
Ole Flood, an' all 'is kind throughout the land,
They ain't been 'eralded with no brass band,
Or been much thought about; but, take my tip,

The war 'as found 'em with a stiffened lip,
'Umpin' a load they thought they'd dropped for good,
Crackin' reel 'ardy, an'--jist sawin' wood.
Dad Flood, 'is back is bent, 'is strength is gone;
'E'd done 'is bit before this war come on.
At sixty-five 'e thought 'is work was done;

'E gave the farmin' over to 'is son,
An' jist sat back in peace, with 'is ole wife,
To spend content the ev'nin' uv 'is life.
Then come the war. An' when Syd 'esitates
Between the ole folk an' 'is fightin' mates,
The ole man goes outside an' grabs a hoe.

Sez 'e, "Yeh want to, an' yeh ought to go.
Wot's stoppin' yeh?" 'E straightens 'is ole frame.
"Ain't I farmed long enough to know the game?"
There weren't no more to say. An' Syd went--West:
Into the sunset with ole Aussie's best.
But no one ever 'eard no groans from Dad.

Though all 'is pride an' 'ope was in that lad
'E showed no sign excep' to grow more grim.
'Is son was gone--an' it was up to 'im.
One day last month when I was down at Flood's
I seen 'im strugglin' with a bag uv spuds.
"Look 'ere," I sez, "you let me spell yeh, Dad.

You 'umpin' loads like that's a bit too bad."
'E gives a grunt that's more than 'arf a groan.
"Wot's up?" 'e snaps. "Got no work uv yer own?"
That's 'im. But I've been tippin' that the pace
Would tell; an' when 'is wife comes to our place,
An' sez that Dad is ill an' took to bed,

Flat out with work--though that ain't wot she said--
I ain't su'prised; an' tells 'er when I'm thro'
I'll come across an' see wot I can do.
I went across, an'--I come back again.
Strike me! it's no use reas'nin' with some men.
Stubborn ole cows! I'm sick uv them ole fools.

The way 'e yells, "Keep yer 'ands off my tools!"
Yeh'd think I was a thief. 'Is missus said
I'd better slope, or 'e'd be out uv bed.
'E 'eard us talkin' through the open door.
"'Oo's that?" 'e croaks, altho' 'e tries to roar.
An' when 'is wife ixplains it's only me

To 'elp a bit: "I want no charity!"
'E barks. "I'll do me work meself, yeh 'ear?"
An' then 'e gits so snarky that I clear.
But 'e'll do me. I like the ole boy's nerve.
We don't do nothin' that 'e don't deserve;
But me an' Peter Begg an' ole man Poole,

We fairly 'as our work cut out to fool
The sly ole fox, when we sneaks down each day
An' works a while to keep things under way.
We digs a bit, an' ploughs a bit, an' chops
The wood, an' does the needful to 'is crops.
We does it soft, an' when 'e 'ears a row

'Is missus tells 'im it's the dog or cow.
'E sez that it's queer noises for a pup.
An'--there'll be ructions when ole Flood gits up.
It ain't all overwork that's laid 'im out.
Ole Pride in 'im is fightin' 'ard with Doubt.
To-day 'is wife sez, "Somethin's strange in 'im,

For in 'is sleep sometimes 'e calls for Jim.
It's six long years," she sez, an' stops to shake
'Er 'ead. "But 'e don't mention 'im awake."
Dad Flood. I thought 'im jist a stiff-necked fool
Before the war; but, as I sez to Poole,
This war 'as tested more than fightin' men.

But, say, 'e is an 'oly terror when
Friends try to 'elp 'im earn a bite an' sup.
Oh, there'll be 'Ell to pay when 'e gits up!

IV. DIGGER SMITH

CALLS me Digger; that's 'ow 'e begins.
'E sez 'e's only 'arf a man; an' grins.
Judged be 'is nerve, I'd say 'e was worth two
Uv me an' you.
Then 'e digs 'arf a fag out uv 'is vest,
Borrers me matches, an' I gives 'im best.
The first I 'eard about it Poole told me.
"There is a bloke called Smith at Flood's," sez 'e;
Come there this mornin', sez 'e's come to stay,
An' won't go 'way.
Sez 'e was sent there be a pal named Flood;
An' talks uv contracts sealed with Flanders mud.
"No matter wot they say, 'e only grins,"
Sez Poole. "'E's rather wobbly on 'is pins.
Seems like a soldier bloke. An' Peter Begg
'E sez one leg
Works be machinery, but I dunno.
I only know 'e's there an' 'e won't go.
"'E grins," sez Poole, "at ev'rything they say.
Dad Flood 'as nearly 'ad a fit to-day.
'E's cursed, an' ordered 'im clean off the place;
But this cove's face
Jist goes on grinnin', an' 'e sez, quite carm,
'E's come to do a bit around the farm."
The tale don't sound too good to me at all.
"If 'e's a crook," I sez, "'e wants a fall.
Maybe 'e's dilly. I'll go down an' see.
'E'll grin at me
When I 'ave done, if 'e needs dealin' with."
So I goes down to interview this Smith.
'E 'ad a fork out in the tater patch.
Sez 'e, "Why 'ello, Digger. Got a match?"
"Digger?" I sez. "Well, you ain't digger 'ere.
You better clear.
You ought to know that you can't dig them spuds.
They don't belong to you; they're ole Dad Flood's."
"Can't I?" 'e grins. "I'll do the best I can,
Considerin' I'm only 'arf a man.
Give us a light. I can't get none from Flood,
An' mine is dud."
I parts; an' 'e stands grinnin' at me still;
An' then 'e sez, "'Ave yeh fergot me, Bill?"
I looks, an' seen a tough bloke, short an' thin.
Then, Lord! I recomembers that ole grin.
"It's little Smith!" I 'owls, "uv Collin'wood.
Lad, this is good!
Last time I seen yeh, you an' Ginger Mick
Was 'owling rags, out on yer final kick."
"Yer on to it," 'e sez. "Nex' day we sailed.
Now 'arf uv me's back 'ome, an' 'arf they nailed.
An' Mick. . . . Ar, well, Fritz took me down a peg."
'E waves 'is leg.
"It ain't too bad," 'e sez, with 'is ole smile;
"But when I starts to dig it cramps me style.
"But I ain't grouchin'. It was worth the fun.
We 'ad some picnic stoushin' Brother 'Un--
The only fight I've 'ad that some John 'Op
Don't come an' stop.
They pulled me leg a treat, but, all the same,
There's nothin' over 'ere to beat the game.
"An' now," 'e sez, "I'm 'ere to do a job
I promised, if it was me luck to lob
Back 'ome before me mate," 'e sez, an' then,
'E grins again.
"As clear as mud," I sez. "But I can't work
Me brains to 'old yer pace. Say, wot's the lurk?"
So then 'e puts me wise. It seems that 'im
An' this 'ere Flood--I tips it must be Jim--
Was cobbers up in France, an' things occurred.
(I got 'is word
Things did occur up there). But, anyway,
Seems Flood done somethin' good for 'im one day.
Then Smith 'e promised if 'e came back 'ome
Before 'is cobber o'er the flamin' foam,
'E'd see the ole folks 'ere, an' 'e agreed,
If there was need,
'E'd stay an' do a bit around the farm
So long as 'e 'ad one sound, dinkum arm.
"So, 'ere I am," 'e sez, an' grins again.
"A promise is a promise 'mong us men."
Sez I, "You come along up to the 'ouse.
Ole Dad won't rouse
When once 'e's got yer strength, an' as for Mar,
She'll kiss yeh when she finds out 'oo yeh are."
So we goes up, an' finds 'em both fair dazed
About this little Smith; they think 'e's crazed.
I tells the tale in words they understand;
Then it was grand
To see Dad grab Smith's 'and an' pump it good,
An' Mar, she kissed 'im, like I said she would.
Mar sez 'e must be starved, an' right away
The kettle's on, she's busy with a tray.
An', when I left, this Digger Smith 'e looked
Like 'e was booked
For keeps, with tea an' bread an' beef inside.
"Our little Willie's 'ome," 'e grins, "an' dried."

V. WEST