“An’ now,” ’e sez, “I’m ’ere to do a job
I promised, if it was me luck to lob
  Back ’ome before me mate,” ‘e sez, an’ then,
                              ’E grins again. 
“As clear as mud,” I sez.  “But I can’t work
Me brains to ’old yer pace.  Say, wot’s the lurk?”

So then ’e puts me wise.  It seems that ’im
An’ this ’ere Flood—­I tips it must be Jim—­
  Was cobbers up in France, an’ things occurred. 
                               (I got ’is word
Things did occur up there).  But, anyway,
Seems Flood done somethin’ good for ’im one day.

Then Smith ’e promised if ’e came back ’ome
Before ‘is cobber o’er the flamin’ foam,
 ’E’d see the ole folks ‘ere, an’ ’e agreed,
                          If there was need,
‘E’d stay an’ do a bit around the farm
So long as ’e ’ad one sound, dinkum arm.

“So, ’ere I am,” ‘e sez, an’ grins again. 
“A promise is a promise ’mong us men.” 
  Sez I, “You come along up to the ’ouse. 
                    Ole Dad won’t rouse
When once ‘e’s got yer strength, an’ as for Mar,
She’ll kiss yeh when she finds out ’oo yeh are.”

So we goes up, an’ finds ’em both fair dazed
About this little Smith; they think ’e’s crazed. 
 I tells the tale in words they understand;
                        Then it was grand
To see Dad grab Smith’s ‘and an’ pump it good,
An’ Mar, she kissed ’im, like I said she would.

Mar sez ‘e must be starved, an’ right away
The kettle’s on, she’s busy with a tray. 
 An’, when I left, this Digger Smith ’e looked
                           Like ’e was booked
For keeps, with tea an’ bread an’ beef inside. 
“Our little Willie’s ’ome,” ‘e grins, “an’ dried.”

V. WEST

West

“I’ve seen so much uv dirt an’ grime
  I’m mad to ’ave things clean. 
I’ve seen so much uv death,” ’e said—­
“So many cobbers lyin’ dead—­
  You won’t know wot I mean;
But, lad, I’ve ’ad so much uv strife
I want things straightened in my life.

“I’ve seen so much uv ’ate,” ’e said—­
 “Mad ‘ate an’ silly rage—­
I’m yearnin’ for clear thoughts,” said ’e. 
“Kindness an’ love seem good to me. 
  I want a new, white page
To start all over, clean an’ good,
An’ live me life as reel men should.”

We’re sittin’ talkin’ by the fence,
  The sun’s jist goin’ down,
Paintin’ the sky all gold an’ pink. 
Said ’e, “When it’s like that, I think—­”
  An’ then ’e stops to frown. 
Said ’e, “I think, when it’s jist so,
Uv . . . .  God or somethin’:  I dunno.

“I ain’t seen much uv God,” said ’e;
 “Not ’ere nor Over There;
But, partly wot I’ve seen an’ read,
An’ partly wot the padre said,
  It gits me when I stare
Out West when it’s like that is now. 
There must be somethin’ else—­some’ow.