Digger Smith

Jim's Girl

O is that girl," sez Digger Smith,
"That never seems to bother with

No blokes: the bint with curly 'air?

I've often seen 'er over there

Talkin' to Missus Flood, an' she
Seems like a reel ripe peach to me.

"Not that I'm askin'" . . . 'Ere 'is eyes
Goes sort uv swiv'ly, an' 'e sighs.

"Not that I'm askin' with idears

Uv love an' marridge; 'ave no fears.

I've chucked the matrimony plan,"
'E sez. "I'm only 'arf a man."

This Digger Smith 'as fairly got
Me rampin' with 'is "'arf man" rot.

'E 'as a timber leg, it's true;

But 'e can do the work uv two.

Besides, the things 'e's done Out There
Makes 'im one man an' some to spare.

I knoo 'is question was jist kid.
'E'd met this girl; I know 'e did.

'E knoo Jim Flood an' 'er was booked

For double when the 'Un was cooked.

But, seein' 'er, it used to start
'Im thinkin' uv another tart.

"Oh, 'er?" sez I. "She is a pearl.
I've 'eard she used to be Jim's girl;

But she was jist a child when Jim

Got out. She 'as forgotten 'im."

I knows jist wot was in 'is mind,
An' sez, "Wade in, if you're inclined."

'E give me sich a narsty look
I thought 'e meant to answer crook;

But, "I ain't out for jokes," sez 'e

"Yeh needn't sling that stuff to me.

I only was jist thinkin'--p'r'aps . . . . .
There's some," 'e sez, "that sticks to chaps.

"Some girls," sez 'e, "keeps true to chaps,
An' wed 'em when they've done with scraps,

An' come 'ome whole. Yeh don't ixpec'

No tart to tie up to a wreck?

Besides," 'e sez. . . . "Well, any'ow,
That girl's all right; I know it now.

"I know," sez Smith. "I got it right.
Jim used to talk to me at night

About a little girl 'e tracked.

'Er name is Flo. Ain't that a fact?

That's 'er. I know she writes to 'im
Each mail. She ain't forgotten Jim.

"I'd like to swap my luck for Jim's
If 'e comes 'ome with all 'is limbs.

An', if 'e don't--well, I dunno.

I've taken notice uv this Flo,

An' wonder if"--'e stares at me--
"If there is more like 'er" sez 'e.

Now, Digger Smith 'as learned a lot
Out fightin' there, but 'e ain't got

The cunnin' for to 'ide 'is 'eart.

'E's too dam honest, for a start;

'Is mind's dead simple to a friend.
I've read 'im through from end to end.

I've learned from things 'e 'asn't said
Jist wot's been runnin in 'is 'ead.

I know there is a girl, somewhere;

Some one 'oo 'ad the 'eart to care

For 'im when 'e went to the war.
I know all that, an' somethin' more.

I know that since 'e came back 'ere
'E 'asn't seen that girl for fear

She'd turn 'im down--give 'im the bird,

An' 'and 'im out the frozen word,

Because 'e's left a leg in France;
An' 'e's afraid to take a chance.

Well, not afraid, per'aps, but--shook.
It's jist the form 'is nerves 'ave took.

Now 'e's been watchin' Flo an' seen

'Er style, an' 'ow she's always keen

For news uv Jim.Then 'e starts out
To 'ope, an' 'esitate, an' doubt.

'E wonders if 'is own girl spoke
Jist this same way about 'er bloke.

'E wonders if in 'is girl's eyes

That same look came; an' then 'e sighs,

An' dulls 'is senses with the dope
That 'arf a man ain't got no 'ope.

'E makes me tired. But, all the same,
I tries to work a little game.

"Look 'ere," I sez. "About this Flo.

Jim mightn't come back 'ome, yeh know.

You 'ave a fly; yeh're sure to score;
Besides, all's fair in love an' war."

"Sling that!" 'e sez; but I goes on
"Ole Jim won't blame yeh when she's gone.

'E knows, the same as me an' you,

These silly tarts, they can't keep true."

I piles it on until I've got
'Im where I want 'im--jumpin' 'ot.

An' then 'e sez, "'Ere, sling that talk!
I might be groggy in me walk;

But if yeh say them things to me

I'm man enough to crack yeh; see?"

"Righto," sez I. "That was me plan.
Now wot about this 'arf a man?"

'E stares at me, an' then sez, slow,
"Wot is yer game? Wot do yeh know?"

"Nothin'," I tells 'im, "only this

When there's a waitin' tart to kiss

Yeh're only 'arf a man; but when
There's blokes to fight, yeh're twenty men."

"Wot tart?" 'e asks. "Yeh mean this Flo?"
"P'r'aps not," I sez. "You ought to know."

I waits to let me words sink in.

An' then--'e beats me with that grin.

"Match-makin', Bill?" 'e laughs. "Oh, 'Ell!
You take up knittin' for a spell."

IX. THE BOYS OUT THERE

The Boys Out There

HY do they do it? I dunno,"

Sez Digger Smith. "Yeh got me beat.

Some uv the yarns yeh 'ear is true,
An' some is 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,
An' in their ears wild fightin' cries,

They ever after shun.

P'r'aps 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 fightin' 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 a 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!

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' 'ave 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!--
They never thinks uv other ways,

But does it brave an' bold.

That's 'arf; an' for the other part
Yeh got to go back to the start.

Yeh've got to go 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' from this war,
Somethin' they never 'ad before,

That makes 'en better men.

Better? There's no word I can get
To name it right. There's somethin' yet.

We 'ear a 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

Half a Man

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 tells 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."

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.

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 won't '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 finds '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.

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 a 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 the 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

Sawin' Wood

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.

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 wot 'as became uv it,

An' turns the mantelshelf 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 dunno."

"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 away 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

Jim

OW, 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 are 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' 'ome 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.

"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.

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.

'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."

But then 'e grabs Jim's 'and. I seen the joy
In mother's eyes. "Now, welcome 'ome, 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 together '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!"

XIII. A SQUARE DEAL

A Square Deal

REAMIN'?" 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.

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?

"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.

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?"

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

GLOSSARY

Alley, to throw in the.

To surrender.

Ar.

An exclamation expressing joy, sorrow, surprise, etc.,
according to the manner of utterance.

Aussie.

Australia; an Australian.

Bag of tricks.

All one's belongings.

Barrack.

To take sides.

Beat the band.

To amaze.

Bint.

Girl.

Bird, to give the.

To treat with derision.

Blighty.

London.

Blind.

Deception, "bluff."

Bloke.

A male adult of the genus homo.

Bluff.

Cunning practice; make-believe; to deceive; to mislead.

Bonzer,

The best. [In text, only Boshter]

Book.

In whist, six tricks.

Booked.

Engaged.

Buckley's (Chance)

A forlorn hope.

Buck up.

Cheer up.

Bunk, to do a.

To depart.

Chap.

A "bloke" or "cove."

Chuck off

To chaff; to employ sarcasm.

Chuck up.

To relinquish.

Chump.

A foolish fellow.

Cobber

A boon companion.

Coot.

A person of no account (used contemptuously).

Cove

A "chap" or "bloke." q.v. (Gipsy).

Cow.

A thoroughly unworthy, not to say despicable person,
place, thing or circumstance.

Crack

To smite.

Crack hardy.

To suppress emotion; to endure patiently;
to keep a secret.

Crook.

Unwell; dishonest; spurious; fraudulent.
Superlative=dead crook.

Crook.

A dishonest or evil person.

Crool.

To frustrate; to interfere with.

Dead.

In a superlative degree; very.

Deal.

A "hand" at cards.

Digger.

An infantryman; a comrade.

Dilly.

Foolish; half-witted.

Dinkum.

Honest; true.

Dipped.

Mentally deficient.

Dizzy limit

The utmost; the superlative degree.

Dope.

A drug.

Dud.

No good; ineffective; used up.

Fag.

A cigarette.

Final, to run one's.

To die.

Final kick.

Final leave.

Fly.

A turn; a try.

Game.

Occupation; scheme; design.

Grandstand play.

Playing to the gallery.

Groggy.

Unsteady.

Grouch.

To mope; to grumble.

Hokey Fly, by the.

A mild expletive,
without any particular meaning.

Hump, to

To carry, as a swag or other burden.

Job.

Work, occupation.

John 'Op (or Jonop)

Policeman.

Jolt.

A blow.

Keep one down.

Take a drink.

Kick.

Leave.

Kick about.

To loaf or hang about.

Kid

A child.

Kid, to.

To deceive; to persuade with flattery.

Lob, to

To arrive.

Lurk

A plan of action; a regular occupation.

Moniker.

A name; a title; a signature.

Mug.

A simpleton.

Nail.

Catch.

Nark.

s., a spoilsport; a churlish fellow.

Nark, to.

To annoy; to foil.

Neck and neck.

Side by side.

Nix.

Nothing.

Nod, on the.

Without payment.

Pal.

A friend; a mate (Gipsy).

Part.

Give; hand over.

Pins.

Legs.

Pull, to take a.

To desist; to discontinue.

Pull off.

Desist.

Pull my (or your) leg.

To deceive or get the best of.

Punter.

The natural prey of bookmakers (betting men).

Push up daisies, to.

To be interred.

Quid.

A sovereign, or pound sterling.

Rag.

Song in rag time.

Rattled

Excited; confused.

Recomeniber.

Remember.

Renege.

To fail to follow suit (in playing cards); to quit.

Rile

To annoy.

Riled

Roused to anger.

Ringer.

Expert.

Rook, to.

To "take down."

Rouse (or Roust).

To upbraid with many words.

Ructions.

Growling; argument.

Run 'is final.

Died.

Sawing wood

"Bluffing;" biding one's time.

School.

A club; a clique of gamblers, or others.

Scoot.

To hurry; to scuttle.

Scrap.

Fight.

Shicker

Intoxicating liquor.

Skite.

To boast.

Slam,

Making all the tricks (in card-playing).

Sling.

Discard; throw.

Slope, to.

To leave in haste.

Smooge.

To flatter or fawn; to bill and coo.

Snarky

Angry.

Sock it into.

To administer physical punishment.

S.O.S

Signal of distress or warning, used in telegraphy.

Spare my days.

A pious ejaculation.

Spell.

Rest or change.

Sprag

To accost truculently; to convince.

Spuds.

Potatoes.

Square.

Upright; honest.

Squeak.

To give away a secret.

Stoke.

Eat.

Stop one.

To receive a blow.

Stoush

To punch with the fist. s., Violence.

Strength.

Truth; correct estimate.

Strike me!

The innocuous remnant of a hardy curse.

'Struth!

An emaciated oath.

Stunt.

A performance; a tale. [At the front: a battle, engagement]

Swank.

Affectation; ostentation.

Swap.

Exchange.

Swiv'ly

Afraid, or unable, to look straight.

Take down.

Deceive; get the best of.

Tart.

A young woman (contraction of sweetheart).

Tater

Potato.

Throw in the alley.

To surrender.

Tip.

A warning; a prognostication; a hint.

Toff.

An exalted person.

Tony.

Stylish.

Tossed out on my neck.

Rejected.

Track with

To woo; to "go walking with."

Treat.

Very much or very good.

Tucker.

Food.

Twig.

To observe; to espy.

Umptydoo.

Far-fetched; "crook."

Up to us.

Our duty.

Wade in

Take your fill.

Wise, to put.

To explain; to instruct.

Wowser

A narrow-minded, intolerant person.

Yap

To talk volubly.