C.J. Dennis, Digger Smith - Part 6

88
DIGGER SMITH
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 woth 'as became uv it,
An' turns the mantleshelf 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 duuno."
 

SAWIN' WOOD 89
"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 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
 

[Printed drawing-see original document]
 

Jim
NOW, 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 an' 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' 'orne 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.
 

94 DIGGER SMITH
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,
 

JIM 95
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.
 

96 DIGGER SMITH
'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:"
 

JIM 97
But then 'e grabs Jim's 'and. I  seen the joy
In mother's eyes. "Now, welcome 'orne, 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 togeth er '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!"
F2
 

XIII. A SQUARE DEAL.
10596
AUSTRALIAN WAR MEMORIAL
PRINTED RECORDS
 

[Printed drawing-see original document]
 

A Square Deal
DREAMIN'?" I sez to Digger Smith.
"Buck up, ole sport, an' smile.
Ain't there enough uv joy to-day
To drive the bogey man away
An' make reel things worth while?
A bloke would think, to see you stare,
There's visions on the 'ill-tops there."
"Dreamin'," sez Digger Smith. "Why not?
An' there is visions too.
An' when I get 'em sorted out,
An' strafe that little bogey, Doubt,
I'll start me life all new.
Oh, I ain't crook; but packed in 'ere
Is thoughts enough to last a year.
"I'm thinkin' things," sez Digger Smith.
"I'm thinkin' big an' fine
Uv Life an' Love an' all the rest,
An' wot is right an' wot is best,
An' 'ow much will be mine.
101
 

102 DIGGER SMITH

Not that I'm wantin' overmuch:
Some work, some play, an' food an' such."
"See 'ere," I sez. "You 'ark to me.
I've done some thinkin' too.
An' this 'ere land, for wot yeh did,
Owes some few million solid quid
To fightin' blokes like you.
So don't be too dam modest or
Yeh'll git less than yeh're lookin' for."
"Money?" sez Digger. "Loot?" sez 'e
"Aw, give that talk a rest!
I'm sick uv it. I didn't say
That I was thinkin' all uv pay,
But wot was right an' best.
An' that ain't in the crazy game
Uv grabbin' wealth an' chasin' fame.
"Do you think us blokes Over There,
When things was goin' strong,
Was keepin' ledgers day be day
An' reck'nin' wot the crowd would pay?
Pull off! Yeh got it wrong.
Do you think all the boys gone West
Wants great swank 'ead-stones on their chest?
 

A SQUARE DEAL 103
"You chaps at 'ome 'as small ideer
Uv wot we think an' feel.
We done our bit an' seen it thro',
An' all that we are askin' you
Is jist a fair, square deal.
We want this land we battled for
To settle up—an' somethin' more.
"We want the land we battled for
To be a land worth while.
We're sick uv greed, an' 'ate, an' strife,
An' all the mess that's made uv life." . . .
'E stopped a bit to smile.
"I got these thoughts Out There becos
We learnt wot mateship reely was."
The hills be'ind the orchard trees
Was showin' misty blue.
The ev'nin' light was growin' dim;
An' down I sat 'longside uv 'im,
An' done some dreamin' too.
I dreams uv war; an' wot is paid
By blokes that went an' blokes that stayed.
 

104 DIGGER SMITH
I dreams uv honour an' reward,
An' 'ow to pay a debt.
For partin' cash, an' buyin' farms,
An' fittin' chaps with legs an' arms
Ain't all—there's somethin' yet.
There's still a solid balance due;
An' now it's up to me an' you.
There's men I know ain't yet woke up,
Or reckernized that  debt—
Proud men 'oo wouldn't take yeh down
Or owe their grocer 'arf-a-crown­—
They ain't considered, yet,
There's somethin' owin'—to the dead,
An' Diggers live for more than bread.
"We learnt wot mateship was," 'e sez.
"Us Diggers found the good
That's hid away somewhere in chaps,
An' ain't searched for enough, per'aps,
Or prized, or understood.
But all this game uv grab an' greed
An' silly  'ate—Why, where's the need?"
 

A SQUARE DEAL 105
The hills be'ind the orchard trees
Jist caught the settin' sun.
A bloke might easy think that there,
'Way back be'ind the range somewhere,
Where streaks uv sunlight run,
There was a land, swep' clear uv doubt,
Where men finds wot they dreams about.
"Beauty," sez Digger, sudden-like,
"An' love, an' kindliness;
The chance to live a clean, straight life,
A dinkum deal for kids an' wife:
A man needs nothin' less. . . .
Maybe they'll get it when I go
To push up daisies. I dunno."
"Dreamin'," sez Digger Smith. "Why not?
There's visions on the hill.". . .
Then I gets up an' steals away,
An' leaves 'im with the dyin' day,
Dreamin' an' doubtin' still. . . .
Cobber, it's up to me an' you
To see that 'arf 'is dream comes true.
THE END
 

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