We drink each other's health, 'n' know no henmity nor fear.

I see I've got to pinch him, but he's out to do his div. in, 'N' don't care if he don't go home till day- light doth appear.

Sez he: "I pud you home to bed upside dot 'ouse you live in."

He shakes his finger in me eye: "Mein friendt, you're preddy trunk!"

Then arm in arm through No Man's land we does a social bunk.

There's Fear afoot. Comes more than once the glug of sudden death.

We're rockin' fine 'n' careless where the rifle fire is breakin', 'N' singin' most uproar'ous, in the bomb's disgustin' breath, Of girls, 'n' drink, 'n' cheerful sprees, 'n'

'Herman thinks he's takin'

A cobber home to somewhere in an subbub damp 'n' dim, Whereas I know fer certain it is me is takin'

him.

Somehow, sometime, I lands him where he's safely put to bed.

I wake nex' day, 'n' holy smoke! I'm pri- soner with the German.

Me mouth is like an ashpan, there's hot fish- bolts in me head, 'N' through the barb-wire peerin' is me foreigh cobber 'Erman.

"Ve capdure each lasd nighd," sez he "you home haf bring me, boss."

For bravery in takin' me, he got the Iron Cross!

WHEN TOMMY CAME MARCHING HOME.

DEVINE came back the other day.

We'd planned a great home-comin'.

No long trombone we had to play, No fine, heroic drummin'.

With two sticks and a milk-can Borne Put up a martial clatter, While Carter blew a bullock-horn Says Tom Devine, with healthy scorn; "Gorstruth! what is the matter?"

We set three colored petticoats From Baker's chimneys blowin'

('Tis not the bravest flag that floats, Yet 'twas the finest goin'); We cheered our hero all we knew, No song of praise neglectin', To show our pride as he limped through He merely spat and snorted, "Who "The deuce are yous expectin'?"

They lured him to my shop somehow, And sued for news of battle.

Says Tom: "Who rides the mail track now?

Who herdin' Stringer's cattle?"

A dint the Turk put in his head.

He covers with a ringlet.

He'd won a medal, so we read.

"I might 'ave 'ad it pinched," he said- "I've sewn it in my singlet!"

Says Cole "But, 'struth, you must 'ave seen A fearful swag of sc.r.a.ppin'."

And Tom agrees "Where men are keen That's pretty sure to 'appen.

One night a little bloke from Hay Who plugged a Pentridge warder Got such a doin' that at day, Amazed, they ticked him for a stray Distinguished Service Order.

"Then Sydney Bob was rather vexed With Green--who'd pinched his braces, That was 'continued in our next'

In half a score of places.

McCubbin threw his grub at Lea (You know how sticky stew is); They fought till neither man could see.

You talk of fight--Gorstrike me, we Saw stacks of it at Suez!"

h.e.l.lO, SOLDIER!

BACK again 'n' nothin' missin' barrin'

arf a hand, Where an Abdul bit me, chokin' in the Holy Land.

'Struth, they got some dirty fighters in the Moslem pack, Bull-nosed slugs their sneakin' snipers spat ters in yer back Blows a gapin' sort iv pit in What a helephant could sit in.

Bounced their bullets, if yeh please, Like the 'oppers in a cheese, Off me rubber pelt in droves, Moppin' up the other coves.

So here's me once more at large in Bay-street, Port, a bloomin' Sargin'.

"Cri, it jumbo." "Have a beer."

"Wot-o, Anzac; you're a dear."

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, sw.a.n.kin'

with the best Where the little wimmen's flowin', With their veils 'n' ribbons blowin'- See their eyes of bloo 'n' brown b.u.t.terflyin' '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 n.i.g.g.e.r 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 G.o.d 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 t.i.tled 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.