T

THE MARRIED MAN

(Reservist of the Line)

HE bachelor 'e fights for one
As joyful as can be;

But the married man don't call it fun,
Because 'e fights for three-

For 'Im an' 'Er an' It

(An' Two an' One makes Three)

'E wants to finish 'is little bit,

An' 'e wants to go 'ome to 'is tea!

The bachelor pokes up 'is 'ead

To see if you are gone;

But the married man lies down instead,
An' waits till the sights come on.
For 'Im an' 'Er an' a hit

(Direct or ricochee)

'E wants to finish 'is little bit,

An' 'e wants to go 'ome to 'is tea.

The bachelor will miss you clear
To fight another day;

But the married man, 'e says 'No fear!'

'E wants you out of the way

THE MARRIED MAN

Of 'Im an' 'Er an' It

(An' 'is road to 'is farm or the sea), 'E wants to finish 'is little bit,

An' 'e wants to go 'ome to 'is tea.

The bachelor, 'e fights 'is fight

An' stretches out an' snores;

But the married man sits up all night

For 'e don't like out o' doors: 'E'll strain an' listen an' peer

An' give the first alarm

For the sake o' the breathin' 'e's used to 'ear An' the 'ead on the thick of 'is arm.

The bachelor may risk 'is 'ide

To 'elp you when you're downed;
But the married man will wait beside
Till the ambulance comes round.
'E'll take your 'ome address

An' all you've time to say,

Or if 'e sees there's 'ope, 'e'll press
Your art'ry 'alf the day-

For 'Im an' 'Er an' It

(An' One from Three leaves Two), For 'e knows you wanted to finish your bit, An' 'e knows 'oo's wantin' you.

Yes, 'Im an' 'Er an' It

(Our 'oly One in Three),

We're all of us anxious to finish our bit,

An' we want to get 'ome to our tea!

Yes, It an' 'Er an' 'Im,

Which often makes me think

The married man must sink or swim
An'-'e can't afford to sink!
Oh 'Im an' It an' 'Er

Since Adam an' Eve began,

So I'd rather fight with the bachel-er An' be nursed by the married man!

S

LICHTENBERG

(N. S. W. Contingent)

MELLS are surer than sounds or sights To make your heart-strings crackThey start those awful voices o' nights That whisper, 'Old man, come back.' That must be why the big things pass And the little things remain,

Like the smell of the wattle by Lichtenberg, Riding in, in the rain.

There was some silly fire on the flank
And the small wet drizzling down-
There were the sold-out shops and the bank
And the wet, wide-open town;

And we were doing escort-duty
To somebody's baggage-train,
And I smelt wattle by Lichtenberg-
Riding in, in the rain.

It was all Australia to me-
All I had found or missed:
Every face I was crazy to see,
And every woman I'd kissed:

All that I shouldn't ha' done, God knows!
(As He knows I'll do it again),

That smell of the wattle round Lichtenberg,
Riding in, in the rain!

And I saw Sydney the same as ever,

The picnics and brass-bands;

And the little homestead on Hunter River
And my new vines joining hands.

It all came over me in one act

Quick as a shot through the brain

With the smell of the wattle round Lichtenberg, Riding in, in the rain.

I have forgotten a hundred fights,

But one I shall not forget

With the raindrops bunging up my sights

And my eyes bunged up with wet;

And through the crack and the stink of the cordite

(Ah Christ! My country again!)

The smell of the wattle by Lichtenberg,
Riding in, in the rain!