C.J. Dennis, Digger Smith - Part 5

IX. THE BOYS OUT THERE

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. . . Our Gran'dad; and their women, too,

that 'ad the grit to face the new.

The Boys Out There

"WHY do they do it? I dunno"

Sez Digger Smith. "Yeh got me beat.

Some uv the yarns yeh ' ear is true,

An' some rather umptydoo,

An' some is -indiscreet.

But them that don't get to the crowd,

Them is the ones would make yeh proud."

With Digger Smith an' other blokes

'Oo 'ave returned it's much the same:

They'll talk uv wot they've seen an' done

When they've been out to 'ave their fun;

But no word uv the game.

On fights an' all the tale uv blood

Their talk, as they remark, is dud.

It's so with soldiers, I 'ave 'eard,

All times. The things that they 'ave done,

War-mad, with blood before their eyes,

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DIGGER SMITH

An' in their ears wild fightin' cries,

They ever after shun.

P'r'haps they forget; or find it well

Not to recall too much uv 'Ell.

An' when they won't; loose up their talk

It's 'ard for us to understand

'Ow all those boys we used to know,

Ole Billo, Jim an' Tom an' Joe,

Done things to beat the band.

We knoo they'd fight; but they've became

'Ead ringers at the fighin' game.

Well, wot I've 'eard from Digger Smith

An' other soldier blokes like 'im

I've put together bit by bit,

An' chewed a long time over it;

An' now I've got a dim

An' 'azy notion in me 'ead

Why they is battlers, born an' bred.

Wot did they know uv war first off,

When they joined up? Wot did I know

When I was tossed out on me neck

As if I was shattered wreck

The time I tried to go?

Flat feet! Me feet 'as len'th an' brea'th

Enough to kick a 'Un to death!

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THE BOYS OUT THERE

They don't know nothin', bein' reared

Out 'ere where war 'as never spread-

"A land by bloodless conquest won,"

As some son uv a writin' gun

Sez in a book I read-

They don't know nix but wot they're told

At school; an' that sticks till  they're old.

Yeh've got to take the kid at school,

Gettin' 'is 'ist'ry lesson learned-

Then tales uv Nelson an' uv Drake,

Uv Wellin'ton an' Fightin' Blake.

'Is little 'eart 'as burned

To get right out an' 'have a go,

An' sock it into some base foe.

Nothin' but glory fills 'is mind;

The British charge is somethin' grand;

The soldier that 'e reads about

Don't 'ave no time for fear an' doubt;

'E's the 'eroic brand.

So, when that boy gets in the game,

'E jist wades in an' does the same.

Not bein' old 'ands at the stunt,

They simply does as they are told;

But, bein' Aussies-Spare me days !-

76       DIGGER SMITH

They never thinks uv other ways,

But does it brave an' bold.

That's 'arf; an' for the other part

Yeh got to back to the start.

Yeh've got to right back to Dad,

To Gran'dad and the pioneers,

'Oo packed up all their bag uv tricks

An' come out 'ere in fifty-six,

An' battled thro' the years;

Our Gran'dads; and their women, too,

That 'ad the grit to face the new.

It's that old stock; an', more than that,

It's Bill an' Jim an' ev'ry son

Gettin' three good meat meals a day

An' 'eaps uv chance to go an' play

Out in the bonzer sun.

It's partly that; but, don't forget,

When it's all said, there's somethin' yet.

There's somethin' yet; an' there I'm beat.

Crowds uv these lads I've known, but then,

They 'ave got somethin' form this war,

Somethin' they never 'ad before,

That makes 'em better men.

Better? There's no word I can get

To name it right. There's somethin' yet.

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THE BOYS OUT THERE

We 'ear lot about reward;

We praise, an' sling the cheers about;

But there was debts we can't repay

Piled up on us one single day-

When that first list come out.

There ain't no way to pay that debt.

Do wot we can-there's somethin' yet.

X HALF A MAN

[[ PICTURE SEE ORIGINAL DOCUMENT]]

Then, 'fore 'e knows, 'e's told, to 'is su'prise,

Name an' address-an' colour uv 'er eyes!

Half a Man

I 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 tell 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."

F       81

82   DIGGER SMITH

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.

HALF A MAN   83

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 wont '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 find '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.

84    DIGGER SMITH

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 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 he 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

[[PICTURE SEE ORIGINAL DOCUMENT]]

But nothin's doin'. They jist goes on in.

Sawin' Wood

I 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

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