The gentle ladies stopped to 'ear, 'N' dropped a symperthetic tear, A dollar or a deener for the pore haff1ict dear.

The others trucked the wounded to a hentrance up a lane.

I sez: "Sich conduck's shameful!" Bill-o took to ease his pain One long 'un and another. The conductor picked his brand; The gripman lent his countenance to wot he 'ad in 'and.

And when they moved their stand 'twas Sam Lay pale 'n' peaceful in the pram, 'N' twenty flappers stroked his paw, 'n' said he was a lamb.

The gathered in the tokens and they blooed 'em as above, While Jim-o done the hinvalid 'oom Sammy had to shove.

Sez I: "No n.o.ble 'eroes what's bin fightin'

for their king Should smirch theirselves by doin' this dis- 'onerable thing."

But fine old gents 'n' donahs prim They stopped 'n' slid the beans to Jim.

You betcher life I let 'im hear just what I though of 'im.

Nine, g.m. at St. Kilder, saw the finish of the prowl.

Each 'ad his full-'n'-plentv, and was blowin'

in the tow'l.

As neither bloke cud stand alone, they leaned 'n' argufied Which was the patient sufferer oo's turn it was to ride.

Each 'eld a san'wich and a can.

Sez I: "This shouldn't 'ave began- 'Tain't conduck wot it worthy of a soldier and a man."

I cud 'a' cried with injured pride. Afore a push the three Got sc.r.a.ppin', vague 'n' foolish, which the cripple boy should be.

Sam slips his scientific leg, 'n' flings it in the drain- "I'll auto 'ome," he sez, "or never see me 'ome again."

But I am thinkin' 'ard oo he Tucked 'elpiess in the pram might be.

Comes sudden reckerlection. Great Gohan- ners, it is me!

REPAIRED

HAULED I was from out the tip Fritz made with his demonstration, All broke up, a fractured hip In me Darby Kell a rip Settn' up a cool sensation Like excessive ventilation

One 'and cluttered up a treat- On me oath you wouldn't know it From a 'andsome plate of meat.

They had sorter pied me feet, And a bullet of the foe hit Where no decent bloke could show it.

'Arf a year they've botched me now; Ev'ry scientific schemer In the cor' has faked me prow, Soled 'n' heeled a bloke somehow- Gawd, the last one was a screamer.

Wirin' up me flamin' femur!

Comes a guy and pipes you square, Gogglin' at you through his gla.s.ses, Swings you in the barber's chair, Tilts you this end up with care, Lets you have a whiff of ga.s.ses Chattin' off-hand with the la.s.ses.

Then he slices clean 'n' swift, Like a cobbler cuts his leather, Gives the splintered k.n.o.b a lift- S'elp me tater, it's a gift How they glues you all together, Sayin' it's bin nicer weather!

Surgeon wipes his 'ands, a verse Chort1e softly as he pitches Probes and sponges to the nurse, Thinks the lunch might have bin worse; Close your little gap he hitches, Whistlin' as he jabs the st.i.tches.

I'm caught in with fiddle-strings, Stuck about with bits 'n' patches, Fixed with ligatures 'n' springs, Lath 'n' plastered, swung in slings Skewered with little wooden matches, Hung with hinges, k.n.o.bs 'n' latches.

Till I lay behind me screen, Serious 'n' sober one day, Satisfied 'n' all serene, 'Arf a man 'n' 'arf machine What they winds up ev'ry Monday 'N' it tilts all ways by Sunday.

'Ome again I'll come, a neat, Semi-autymatic loafer, Number up, 'n' all complete, Creakin' round on Collins Street, With a licence (which I'll owe for) My own car and my own shofer!

OUT OF KHAKI.

I SLUNG me khaki suit to-day.

Civilian now front heel to chin I 'op round on a single shin; At home in peace I'm bound to stay.

'N' so they've took me duds away.

It 'urt like strippin' off me skin!

I put it on three years ago, The ole brown rig. There wasn't then A prouder chicken in the pen.

Jist twenty turned, me nibs you'd know For how I give me chest a throw, A man among the best of men.

Me little no the touch I give, Me chin's ez solid ez a rock, 'N' level with the Town 'All clock, A five-inch grin across me chiv.

"Lor' love us, this is how to live,"

Sez I, 'n' felt I owned the Block.

Glad eyes was ever on the lurk, 'N' little 'earts was thumpin' warm For nippers trainin' with the swarm To swat ole Kaiser Bill, or work A toe-hold on the heathen Turk.

Fair d.i.n.k, I loved the uniform!

I soused mine in the brine that day When Tophet spilt, 'n' in the roar Of sh.e.l.ls that split the sea 'n' tore Our boats to chips, we broke any Up through the pelt of leaden spray, 'N' got our first real taste of war.

They shot me tunic all to rags; Then in the perpendic'lar spree Me trousers wore off to the knee.

The right-abouts of many bags Was ground off in the dust 'n' crags A-sittin' in Gallipoli.

I wore the khaki on the Somme- Most time 'twas jist a coat of mud; I once come through the battle scud Stripped mother-naked by a bomb; 'N' once it' took its color from Me own 'n' one good cobber's blood.

They cheered the khaki through the street When we come home with pipers gay, But now I'm jist a bloke in grey.

Harf-lost, lob-sided, incomplete, It's nothin' but me spook you'll meet, Ghost-walkin' in the light o' day.

THE SINGLE-HANDED TEAM

WE'RE more than partners, Ned 'n' me, Two sections permanently righted.

Yiv seen us on the mooch, maybe, Like remnants lovin'ly united.

Ned's only got one stump, the left; By 'appy chance I've got its brother, Of his two dukes he's been bereft; My left was mauled, 'n' had to go, It fortunitly 'appens though, I kept the other.

Ned lost one ear, the left, 'n' struth, He dropped the correspondin' weeper.

A Hun he crooled me lovely youth By bombin' out me right 'and peeper.

He done a guy too with me ear, The right, 'n' now I dunno whether 'Twas Fate's intention, b.u.t.t it's clear When trimmed each as the other's mate 'Twas up to us two, soon or late, To get together.

'Board ship there's me like arf a peach, 'N' Ned's the other arf, but soon it Strikes' Bill Carkeek that side by each We makes a satisfact'rv unit.

A 'andy cobber on the ship Fakes up for us a set of clutches That damps us firmly hip to hip.

In seven minutes we can peg The mile out on a timber leg 'N' two steel crutches.

We now go halves, like Si'mese twins, 'N' as a team I hold we're bosker-- The blighter on the street that grins Has got to deal with Edwin-Oscar.

At b.a.l.l.s we two-step, waltz, 'n' swing, 'N' proppin' walls no one has seen us.

When at the bar I never ring The double on ole Ned. For both One hand must serve, 'n', on me oath, It's fair between us.

We jolt one knife 'n' fork, 'n' find One horse enough for both to ride on, And neither feller rides behind.

Some sez we put a pile of side on.

Well, where's the single-handed brace Will take us on? We'll put the peg in, Train fine, 'n' jump, or box, or race, Or wrestle them; 'n' more than that To clinch a match, so 'elp me cat, We'll throw a leg in!