C.J. Dennis, The Moods of Ginger Mick - Part 3

30
THE MOODS OF GINGER MICK

'E wus a man uv vierlence, wus Mick,

Coarse wiv 'is speech an' in 'is manner low,

Slick wiv 'is 'ands, an' 'andy wiv a brick

When bricks wus needful to defeat a foe.

An' now 'e's gone an' mizzled to the war,

An' some blokes 'as the nerve to arst "Wot for?"

Wot for? Gawstruth! 'E wus no patriot

That sits an' brays advice in days uv strife;

'E never flapped no flags nor sich like rot;

'E never sung "Gawsave" in all 'is life.

'E wus dispised be them that make sich noise;

But now—O strike!—'e's "one uv our brave boys."

'E's oen uv our brave boys, all right, all right.

'Is early trainin' down in Spadger's Lane

Done 'im no 'arm fer this 'ere orl-in fight;

'Is loss o' culcher is 'is country's gain.

'Im wiv 'is carst-ir'n chiv an' leery ways—

An' swell tarts 'eavin' 'im sweet words o' praise.

Why did 'e go? 'E'ad a decent job,

'Is tart an' 'im they could 'a' made it right.

Why does a wild bull fight to guard the mob?

Why does a bloomin' bull-ant look fer fight?

Why does a rooster scrap an' flap an' crow?

'E went becos 'e dam well 'ad to go.

 

 

31

THE  CALL OF  STOUSH  

'E never spouted no 'igh-soundin' stuff

About stern jooty an' 'is country's call;

But, in 'is way, 'e 'eard it right enough

A-callin' like the shout uv "On the Ball!"

Wot time the footer brings the clicks great joy,

An' Saints er Carlton roughs it up wiv 'Roy.

The call wot came to cave-men in the days

When rocks wus stylish in the scrappin' line;

The call wot knights 'eard in the minstrel's lays,

That sent 'em in tin soots to Palerstine;

The call wot draws all fighters to the fray

It come to Mick, an' Mick 'e must obey.

The Call uv Stoush! . . . . It's older than the 'ills,

Lovin' an' fightin'--there's no more to tell

Concernin' men. An' when that feelin' thrills

The blood uv them 'oo's fathers mixed it well,

They 'ave to 'eed it—bein' 'ow they're built—

As traders 'ave to 'eed the clink uv gilt.

An' them whose gilt 'as stuffed 'em stiff wiv pride

An' 'aughty scorn uv blokes like Ginger Mick--

I sez to them, put sich crook thorts aside,

An' don't lay on the patronage too thick.

Orl men is brothers when it comes to lash

An' 'aughty scorn an' Culcher does their dash.

32  

THE  MOODS  OF  GINGER MICK

War ain't no giddy garden feete—it's war:

A game that calls up love an' 'atred both,

An' them that shudders at the sight o' gore,

An' shrinks to 'ear a drunken soljer's oath,

Must 'ide be'ind the man wot 'eaves the bricks,

An' thank their Gawd for all their Ginger Micks.

Becos 'e never 'ad the chance to find

The glory 'o the world by land an' sea,

Becos the beauty 'idin' in 'is mind

Wus not writ plain fer blokes like you an' me,

They calls 'im crook; but in 'im I 'ave found

Wot makes a man a man the world around.

Be'ind that dile uv 'is, as 'ard as sin,

Wus strange, soft thorts that never yet showed out;

An' down in Spadger's Lane, in dirt an' din,

'E dreamed sich dreams as poits sing about.

'E's 'ad 'is visions uv the Bonzer Tart;

An' stoushed some coot to ease 'is swellin' 'eart.

Lovin' an' fightin' . . . when the tale is told,

That's all there is to it; an' in their way

Them brave an' noble 'ero blokes uv old

Wus Ginger Micks—the crook 'uns uv their day.

Jist let the Call uv Stoush give 'im 'is chance

An' Ginger Mick's the 'ero of Romance.

33

THE CALL OF STOUSH

So Ginger Mick 'e's mizzled to the war;

Joy in 'is 'eart, an' wild dreams in 'is brain;

Gawd 'elp the foe that 'e goes gunnin' for

If tales is true they tell in Spadger's Lane—

Tales that ud fairly freeze the gentle 'earts

Uv them 'oo knits 'is socks —the Culchered Tarts.

 

 

 

IV.  THE PUSH

sketch  see original
 " 'E sez 'is name is Trent."

 

 

37

The Push

BECOS a crook done in a prince, an' narked an

Emperor,

An' struck a light that set the world aflame;

Becos the bugles East an' West sooled on the

dawgs o' war,

A bloke called Ginger Mick 'as found 'is

game—

Found 'is game 'an found 'is brothers, 'oo wus strangers in 'is

sight,

Till they shed their silly clobber an' put on the dudes fer fight.

Yes, they've shed their silly clobber an' the other stuff they wore

Fer to 'ide the man beneath it in the past;

An' each man is the clean, straight man 'is Maker meant 'im for,

An' each man knows 'is brother man at last.

Shy strangers,till a bugle blast preached 'oly brother'ood;

But mateship they 'ave found at last; an' they 'ave found it good.

So the lumper, an' the lawyer, an' the chap 'oo shifted sand,

They are cobbers wiv the cove 'oo drove a quill;

The knut 'oo swung a cane upon the Block, 'e takes the 'and

Uv the coot 'oo swung a pick on Broken 'Ill;

An' Privit Clord Augustus drills wiv Privit Snarky Jim—

They are both Australian soljers, w'ich is good enough fer 'im.

 

38   

THE  MOODS   OF  GINGER  MICK

It's good enough fer orl uv 'em, as orl uv 'em 'ave seen

Since they got the same glad clobber next their skins;

An' the bloke 'oo 'olds the boodle an' the coot wivout a bean,

Why, they knock around like little Kharki twins.

An' they got a common lingo, w'ich is grownin' mighty thick

Wiv ixpressive contributions frum the stock uv Ginger Mick.

'E 'as struck it fer a moral. Ginger's found 'is game at last,

An' 'e's took to it like ducklin's take to drink;

An' 'is slouchin' an' 'is grouchin' an' 'is loafin' uv the past—

'E's done wiv 'em, 'an' dumped 'em down the sink.

'E's a bright an' shinin' sample uv a the'ry that I 'old:

That ev'ry 'eart that ever pumped is good fer chunks o' gold.

Ev'ry feller is a goldmine if yeh take an' work 'im right:

It is shinin' on the surface now an' then;

An' there's some is easy sinkin', but there's some wants dynermite,

Fer they looks a 'opeless prospect—yet they're men.

An' Ginger—'ard-shell Ginger's showin' signs that 'e will pay;

But it took a flamin' world-war fer to blarst 'is crust away.

But they took 'im an' they drilled 'im an' they shipped 'im overseas

Wiv a crowd uv blokes 'e never met before.

'E rowed wiv'em, an' scrapped wiv 'em, an' done some tall C.B's,

An' 'e lobbed wiv 'em on Egyp's sandy shore.

Then Pride o' Race lay 'olt on 'im, an' Mick shoves out 'is chest

To find 'imself Australian an' blood brothers wiv the rest.

 

39

THE PUSH

So I gits some reel good readin' in the letter wot 'e sent—

Tho' the spellin's pretty rotten now an' then.

"I 'ad the joes at first," 'e sez; "but now I;m glad I went,

Fer it's shone to be among reel, livin' men.

An' it's grand to be Australian, an' to say it good and loud

When yeh bump a forrin country wiv sich fellers as our crowd.

" 'Struth! I've 'ung around me native land fer close on thirty

year,
An' I never knoo wot men we cobbers were:
Never knoo that toffs wus white men till I met 'em over 'ere—

Blokes an' coves I sort o' snouted over there.

Yes, I loafed aroun' me country; an' I never knoo 'er then;

But the reel, ribuck Australia's 'ere, among the fightin' men,
"We've slung the swank fer good an' all; it don't fit in our plan;

To skite uv birth an' boodle is a crime.

A man wiv us,why, 'e's a man becos 'e is  a man,

An' a reel red-'ot Australian ev'ry time.

Fer dawg an' side an' snobbery is down an' out fer keeps.

It's grit an' reel good fellership that gits yeh friends in 'eaps.
"There's a bloke 'oo shipped when I did; 'e wus lately frum 'is ma,

'Oo 'ad filled 'im full uv notions uv 'is birth;

An' 'e overworked  'is aitches till 'e got the loud 'Ha-ha'

Frum the fellers, but 'e wouldn't come to earth.

 

40  

THE   MOODS  OF  GINGER  MICK

I bumped 'is lordship, name o' Keith, an' 'ad a little row,

An' 'e lost some chunks uv beauty; but 'e's good Australian now.

"There is Privit Snifty Thompson, 'oo wus once a Sydney rat,

An' 'e 'ung around the Rocks when 'e wus young.

There's little Smith uv Collin'wood, wiv fags stuck in 'is 'at,

An' a string uv dirty insults on 'is tongue.

A corperil took them in 'and—a lad frum Lameroo.

Now both is nearly gentlemen, an' good Australians too.

"There's one, 'e doesn't tork a lot, 'e sez 'is name is Trent,

Jist a privit, but 'e knows 'is drill a treat;

A stand-orf bloke, but reel good pals wiv fellers in 'is tent;

But 'is 'ome an' 'istoree 'as got 'em beat.

They reckon when 'e starts to bleed 'e'll stain 'is Kharki blue;

An' 'is lingo smells uv Oxford—but 'e's good Australian too.

"Then there's Lofty Craig uv Queensland, 'oo's a special pal uv

mine;

Slow an' shy, an' kind o' nervous uv 'is height;

An' Jupp, 'oo owns a copper show, an' arsts us out to dine

When we're doo fer leave in Cairo uv a night.

An' there's Bills an' Jims an' Bennos, an' there's Roys an'

'Arolds too,

an' thro',

An' they're cobbers, an' they're brothers, an' Australians thro'

 

41

THE  PUSH

"There is farmers frum the Mallee, there is bushmen down frum

Bourke,

There's college men wiv letters to their name;

There is grafters, an' there's blokes 'oo never done a 'ard day's

work

Till they tumbled, wiv the rest, into the game—

An' they're drillin' 'ere together, men uv ev'ry creed an' kind.

It's Australia! Solid! Dinkum! that 'as left the land be'ind. 

"An' if yeh want a slushy, or a station overseer,

Or a tinker, or a tailor, or a snob,

Or a 'andy bloke wiv 'orses, or a minin' ingineer,

Why, we've got the very man to do yer job.

Butcher, baker, undertaker, or a Caf' de Pary chef,

'E is waitin', keen an' ready, in the little A.I.F.

"An' they've drilled us. Strike me lucky! but they've drilled us

fer a cert!

We 'ave trod around ole Egyp's burnin' sand

Till I tells meself at evenin', when I'm wring' out me shirt,

That we're built uv wire an' green-'ide in our land.

Strike! I thort I knoo 'ard yakker, w'ich I've tackled many

ways,

But uv late I've took a tumble I bin dozin' orl me days,

42   
THE  MOODS  OF  GINGER  MICK

"It's a game, lad," writes ole Ginger, "It's a game I'm likin'

grand.

An' I'm tryin' fer a stripe to fill in time.

I 'ave took a pull on shicker fer the honour uv me land,

An' I'm umpty round the chest an' feelin' prime.

Yeh kin tell Rose, if yeh see 'er, I serloots 'er o'er the foam,

An' we'll 'ave a cray fer supper when I comes a-marchin' 'ome."

So ole Ginger sends a letter, an' 'is letter's good to read,

Fer the things 'e sez, an' some things 'e leaves out;

An' when a bloke like 'im wakes up an' starts to take a 'eed,

Well, it's sort o' worth the writin' 'ome about.

'E's one uv many little things Australia chanced to find

She never knoo she 'ad around till bugles cleared 'er mind.

Becos ole Europe lost 'er block an' started 'eavin' bricks,

Becos the bugles wailed a song uv war,

We found reel gold down in the 'earts uv orl our Ginger Micks

We never thort worth minin' fer before.

An' so, I'm tippin' we will pray, before our win is scored:

"Thank God fer Mick, an' Bill an' Jim, an' little brother Clord."

 

V.  SARI BAIR

 

Sketch -see original 

"The Southern breed could play the game fer keeps.'"

 

45

Sari Bair

So , they've struck their streak o' trouble, an' they

got it in the neck,

An' there's more than one ole pal o' mine 'as

'anded in 'is check;

But Ginger still takes nourishment; 'e's well,

but breathin' 'ard,

An' so 'e sends the strength uv it scrawled on

a chunk uv card.

"On the day we 'it the transport there wus cheerin' on the pier,

An' the girls wus wavin' hankies as they dropped a partin' tear,

An' we felt like little 'eroes as we watched the crowd recede,

Fer we sailed to prove Australia, an' our boastin' uv the breed.

"There wus Trent, ex-toff, uv England; there wus Green, ex-pug,

uv 'Loo;

There wus me,an' Craig uv Queensland, wiv 'is 'ulkin' six-foot-

two;

An' little Smith uv Collin'wood, 'oo 'owled a rag-time air,

On the day we left the Leeuwin, bound nor'-west for Gawd-

knows-where.

 

46

THE MOODS OF GINGER MICK

"On the day we come to Cairo wiv its niggers an' its din,

To fill our eyes wiv desert sand, our souls wiv Eastern sin,

There wus cursin' an' complainin'; we wus 'ungerin' fer fight—

Little imertation soljers full uv vanity an' skite.

"Then they worked us—Gawd! they worked us, till we knoo wot

drillin' meant;

Till men begun to feel like men, an' wasters to repent,

Till we grew to 'ate all Egyp', an' its desert,an' its stinks;

On the days we drilled at Mena in the shadder uv the Sphinx.

"Then Green uv Sydney swore an oath they meant to 'old us tight,

A crowd uv flamin' ornaments wivout a chance to fight;

But little Smith uv Collin'wood he whistled 'im a toon,

An' sez, 'Aw, take a pull, lad; there'll be whips o' stoushin' soon.'

"Then the waitin', weary waitin', while we itched to meet the

foe!

But we'd done wiv fancy skitin' an' the comic op'ra show,

We wus soljers—finished soljets,an' we felt it in our veins

One the day we trod the desert on ole Egyp's sandy plains.

"An' Trent 'e said it wus a bore, an' all uv us wus blue,

An' Craig, the giant, never joked the way 'e used to do.

But little Smith uv Collin'wood 'e 'ummed a little song,

An' said, 'You leave it to the 'eads. O now we sha'n't be long!"

 

47
SARI  BAIR  

"Then Sari Bair, O Sari Bair, 'twus you wot seen it done,

The day the transports rode yer bay beneath a smilin' sun,

We boasted much, an' toasted much; but where yer tide line

creeps,

'Twus you, me dainty Sari Bair, that seen us play fer keeps.

"We wus full uv savage skitin' while they kep' us on the shelf—

(Now I tell yeh, square an' 'onest, I wus doubtin' us meself);

But we proved it, good an' plenty, that our lads can do an' dare,

On the day we walloped Abdul o'er the sands o' Sari Bair.

"Luck wus out wiv Green uv Sydney, where 'e stood at my right

'and,

Fer they plunked 'im on the transport 'fore 'e got a chance to

land.

Then I saw 'em kill a feller wot I knoo in Camberwell,

Somethin' sort o' went inside me—an' the rest wus bloody 'ell.

"Thro' the smoke I seen 'im strivin', Craig uv Queensland, tall

an' strong,

Like an 'arvester at 'ay-time singin', swingin' to the song.

An' little Smith uv Collin'wood, 'e 'owled a fightin' tune,

On the day we chased Mahomet over Sari's sandy dune.

"An' Sari Bair, O Sari Bair, you seen 'ow it wus done,

The transports dancin' in yer bay beneath the bonzer sun;

48  
THE  MOODS  OF  GINGER   MICK

An' speckled o'er yer gleamin' shore the little 'uddled 'eaps

That showed at last the Southern breed could play the game fer

keeps.

"We found 'im, Craig uv Queensland, stark, 'is 'and still on' is

gun.

We found too many more besides, when that fierce scrap wus 

done.

An' little Smith uv Collin'wood, he crooned a mournful air,

The night we planted 'em beneath the sands uv Sari Bair.

"On the day we took the transport there wus cheerin' on the pier,

An' we wus little chiner gawds; an' now we're sittin' 'ere.

Wiv the taste uv blood an' battle on the lips uv ev'ry man

An' ev'ry man jist 'opin' fer to end as we began.

"Fer Green is gone, an' Craig is gone, an' Gawd! 'ow many more!

Who sleep the sleep at Sari Bair beside that sunny shore!

An' little Smith uv Collin'wood, a bandage 'round 'is 'ead,

He 'ums a savage song an' vows quick vengeance fer the dead.

"But Sari Bair, me Sari Bair, the secrets that you 'old

Will shake the 'earts uv Southern men when all the tale is told;

An' when they git the strength uv it, there'll never be the need

To call too loud fer fightin' men among the Southern breed."

 

 

VI. GINGER'S COBBER