Book by George Napier Sprod, 1942-1945 - Part 3

My Friends; they called me "CHOCO"

And "Five Bob Tourist," too

They said, "You'll never see the front

Or even get a view"

They said, "You'll have a picnic

Out there across the foam."

But they were'nt game to try it

My friends who stayed at home

The're not such bad shots either

When on a rabbits track

Because there ain't much danger

And rabbits can't shoot back

They shine before the barmaid

They brag across the bar

And hanging round the corner

Is where they always are

- A billiard-cue their rifle

- A bar their fighting-zone

There aint no bullets flying

For my friends who stayed at home

So I'll grab my old Lee-ENfield

And buckle my web about

- Im only a flamin' private

But I'll see the damn show out

And if I stop a bullet

I'll dyie without a moan

- I'll know I've done my duty

By my friends who stayed at home

P.O.W. BLUES

WRitten by an anonymous bard

'at Changi Prison camp'

I've got the P.O.W. blues

Could complain, but what's the use 

I'm wasting my time in the 

tropical clime

With the P.O.W. blues

Ive got the P.O.W blues

No more bully-beef stews

Each day thrice, a dixie of rice

And the P.O.W. blues

Thinking of the way some fellows

Talk about shapely legs

I'd get more satisfaction

From a couple of hard boiled eggs

I've got the P.O.W blues

Got no papers, got no news

In twelve more months or twelve

more days

If the world forgets its war-like

craze

I might be back to my

civvie days

With the P.O.W blues 

⇒

I've got the P O W blues

Tiring of these tropic views

Itching arms and coconut palms

And the P.O.W blues

I've got the P.O.W blues

Got no money, got no booze

Got a job, but what's a bloke

With the P.O.W blues

When I think of the feeds

I've had

Of sausages and mash

Now I couldn't buy a sausage

Even if I had the cash

I've got the P.O.W blues

Worn-out boots, and worn-out
shoes

If half the things that

rumour says

Are partly true, I'm in a 

daze

Time marches on its crazy

way

With the P.O.W. blues

THE DYING DIGGER

by Gnr. A.E. Dawes

The noise of the battle was hellish

The shells whistled round thick and

fast

With bullets mixed in, going out, 

coming in

And a plane laying eggs in the blast

A sunburnt young soldier lay dying

And as he lay there midst the row

A comrade so kind, with tears

almost blind

Gently fondled the young hero's brow

He asked him if to his relations

Could any last word be expressed

To which he replied, with eyes opened wide

And his head on his old playmate's

breast

"OH give my best love to my

sweet-heart

To my brother and sister and

mother

Tell the people at home that we 

'oer the foam

Have them in our hearts and

no other."

⇒

He paused for his breath, and

he shuddered

The labour of speech was too 

great

The shell that had burst, for

him did its worst

And on it was written his fate

He smiled once again, brave 

unhurried

His suffering then at its peak

His blood and his sweat were

mixed with the wet

Of tears running down his 

mate's cheek

"Good-bye and good luck to

you, digger"

He managed to whisper at

last

And there in the sand, where

he'd made his last stand

The noise petered out - life

was past

With the soft gentle care of a 

woman

His comrades then laid him 

to rest

For these gallant sons who 

fight Jap and Huns

Are Australia's bravest and best

This plea that I make may be

futile

To men at home - over the sea

Put on a slouch hat and pick up

your gat

And fight with the diggers like
he.

They'll be proud of you - pride 

that is mighty

You'll fight in the ranks of the

free

Join the A.I.F. army, both

towny and farmy

And keep the foe over the 

sea

Illustration - see original document

THE EMPTY HUT.
HARRINGTON. 

I camped one night in an

empty hut

On the side of a lonely hill

I didn't go much on empty huts,

but the night was awful chill

So I boiled me billy, and had me tea,

and saw that the door was shut

And went to bed in an empty bunk

by the side of the old slab hut. 

It must have been about twelve oclock,

I was feeling cosy and warm

When at the foot of me bed I sees a

horrible ghostly form

It seemed in shape like half of an ape

with the head of a chimpanzee

But what the hell was it doing there, 

and what did it want with me?

You may say, if you please, I had the D.T.s

or call me a crimson liar,

But I wish you had seen it as plain as

me, with its eyes like coals of fire

Then it let out a moan, a horrible groan

that curdled my blood with fear

"There's only two of us here," it says

"There's only two of us here."

I kept one eye on the old hut door, 

and one on the awful brute

I only wanted to dress meself, and 

get to the door and scoot

But I couldnt find where I'd left me

boots, so I hadnt a chance to 

clear

And "Theres only two of us here,"

it says, "There's only two of us here."

⇒

I hadnt a thing to defend myself,

not even a stick nor a stone

And "There's only two of us here"

it says again with a horrible

groan

I thought I'd better make some reply

though I reckoned me end was

near

"By the holy smoke, when I get 

me boots, there'll only be one

of us here"

I gets me hands on me number

tens, and out of the door I 

scoots,

And I lit the whole of the hillside

up, with the sparks from 

me blucher boots,

And I haven't slept in a hut

since then, and I tremble
and shake with fear

When I think of that horrible

form that moaned "Theres

only two of us here."

AT THE END OF THE DAY

ANON.

WHEN I watch the last rays

of the setting SUN

Disappear in the blue of the sea

It means that the end of a day is

nigh

But a far greater meaning it has

for me

For each time I see the old sun

slip down

And darkness come stealng on

I say to myself as I heave a 

sigh

"Thank God there's another day 

gone"

For I know that I'm one day

nearer

To someone I'm longing to see

To someone who is very much dearer

Than all else in this world to me

And I know that she's longing and

waiting

For the guns of war to cease

And each night with her heart

near aching

She prays we may soon have peace

Illustration - see original document

THE SPOTTED HEIFERS

by C.J. DENNIS.

Mr Jeramiah Jeffers

Owned a pair of spotted heifers

These he sold, for two-pounds-ten

To MR. Robert Raymond Wren

Who grazed them in the lucerne

paddocks

Owned by My Martin Maddox

And sold them, when they grew

to cows

To Mr Donald David Dowes.

A grazier, Mr Egbert Innes

Bought them then for twenty guineas

Milked the cows, and sold the milk

To Mr Stephen Evan Silk

Who rents a butter factory

From Mr Lawrence Lampard Lee.

Here once a week comes for his 

butter

The grocer, Mr Roland Rutter

Who keeps a shop in Sunny Street

Next door to Mr Peter Peet

Who every afternoon at two 

Sends his fair daughter Lucy Loo

To Mr Rutters shop to buy

Such things that are not priced 

too high

Especially a shilling tin

Of "Fuller's Food, for Folk too

Thin"

- This food was bought for Lucy Loo

A girl of charming manners, who

Was much too pale, and much too

slight

To be a very pleasant sight.

When Lucy Loo beheld the butter

Stocked by Mr Roland Rutter

She said "I'll have a pound of that!"

She had it, and thenceforth grew fat.

⇒

We now return to Mr Jeffers

Who sold the pair of spotted heifers

He had a son, James Edgar John

A handsome lad to gaze upon

Who now had reached that time 

in life

When young men feel they need 

a wife

But not one girl about the place

Exactly had the kind of face

That seemed to suit James Edgar

John

A saddening thing to think upon

So he grew pale, and sick of life

Because he could not find a wife

One day young James was

passing by

- A look of sorrow in his eye -

The shop of Mr Roland Rutter

When Lucy Loo came out with

butter.

At once James Edgar John

said  "That" -

Is the girl for me - She's fat"

He offered her his heart and hand

Illustration - see original document
And prospects of his fathers
land

The Reverend Saul Sylvester 

Slight

Performed the simple marriage 

rite

The happy couple went their way

And lived, and loved, unto this day
Events can not be far forseen

And all this joy might not have been

If Mr Jeramiah Jeffers

Had kept his pair of spotted heifers

"CUPPACUMALONGA"

BY C.J.DENNIS

"ROVER, Rover cattle drover

where go you today?"

"I go to Cuppacumalonga, fifty 

miles away

Over plains were summer rains

have sung a song of glee

Over hills where laughing rills go

seeking for the sea

I go to Cuppacumalonga, to my 

brother Bill

So come along

- Ah come along

Come to Cuppacumalonga

Come to Cuppacumalonga Hill"

"Rover Rover, Cattle-drover, how

will you go there?"

"For twenty miles I'll amble on, 

upon my pony mare

I'll walk awhile, and talk awhile

with country men I know

Then up to ride a mile beside a

team that travels slow

Then on to Cuppacumalonga

riding with a will

So come along - 

- Ah come along

Come to Cuppacumalonga

Come to Cuppacumalonga Hill"

"Rover, rover, cattle drover, what

will you do then?'

"I'll camp beneath a Kurrajong, with

three good cattle men

Then up away at break of day, 

with strong hands on the reigns

To laugh and sing while mustering

the cattle on the plains

For up at Cuppacumalonga, life

is jolly still

So come along -

- Ah come along

Come to Cuppacumalonga

Come to Cuppacumalonga Hill"

"Rover, rover, cattle drover, how

may I go too?"

"I'll saddle up my creamy colt

and he shall carry you,

My creamy colt, who does not

bolt, 

Who does not shy or kick

We'll pack the load, and take

the road, and travel very quick

And if the day brings work or play

we'll meet it with a will.

So come along -

Ah come along

Come to Cuppacumalonga

Come to Cuppacumalonga Hill

Illustration - see original document

Illustration - see original document

OUR COW

C.J.DENNIS

Down by the slip-rail stands

our cow

Chewing, chewing, chewing

She does not care what the folks

out there

In the great big world are doing

She sees the small cloud - shadows

pass

And green grass shining under

If she does think, what does 

she think

About it all, I wonder? 

⇒

She sees the swallows

skimming by

Above the sweet young clover

The light reeds swaying in the

wind

And tall trees bending over

Far down the track she hears

the crack

Of bullock- whips, and raving

Of angry men, where in the 

sun

Her fellow beasts are slaving.

Girls we are told, can scratch

and scold

And boys will fight and 

wrangle

And big grown men, just now 

and then

Fret o'er some fingle-fangle

Vexing the earth with grief 

or mirth

Loving, rejoicing, rueing,

But down by the sliprail

stands our cow - 

Chewing.

Illustration - see original document

ANON

LAST night I saw, upon the stair

A little man who was not there

- He wasn't there again today

I wish to cripes he'd go away!