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.