The Moods of Ginger Mick | Page 9

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 flarnin' 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' soom.'
"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 soljers, an' we felt it in our veins On 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!'
"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;
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."
VII. GINGER'S COBBER
"'E wears perjarmer soots an' cleans 'is teeth,"
That's wot I reads. It fairly knocked me flat,
"Me soljer cobber, be the
name o' Keith."
Well, if that ain't the limit, strike me fat!
The sort that Ginger Mick
would think beneath
'Is notice once. Perjarmers! Cleans 'is teeth?

Ole Ginger Mick 'as sent a billy-doo
Frum somew'ere on the earth where fightin' thick.
The Censor wus a
sport to let it thro',
Considerin' the choice remarks o' Mick.
It wus that 'ot, I'm wond'rin'
since it came
It didn't set the bloomin' mail aflame.
I'd love to let yeh 'ave it word fer word;
But, strickly, it's a bit above the odds;
An' there's remarks that's 'ardly
ever 'eard
Amongst the company to w'ich we nods.
It seems they use the style in
Ginger's trench
Wot's written out an' 'anded to the Bench.
I tones the langwidge down to soot the ears
Of sich as me an' you resorts wiv now.
If I should give it jist as it
appears
Partic'lar folk might want ter make a row.
But say, yeh'd think ole
Ginger wus a pote
If yeh could read some juicy bits 'e's