JOEY’S JOB.

In days before the trouble Jo was rated as
     a slob. 
He chose to sit in hourly expectation of a job. 
He’d loop hisself upon a post, for seldom
     friends had he,
A gift of patient waitin’ his distinctif quality. 
He’d linger in a doorway, or he’d loiter on the
     grass,
Edgin’ modestly aside to let the fleetin’
     moments pass.

Jo’ begged a bob from mother, but more often
     got a clout,
And settled down with cigarettes to smoke the
     devil out. 
The one consistent member of the Never
     Trouble Club,
He put a satin finish on the frontage of the
     pub. 
His shoulder-blades were pokin’ out from
     polishin’ the pine;
But if a job ran at him Joey’s footwork was
     divine.

Jo strayed in at the cobbler’s door, but, scoffed
     at as a fool,
He found the conversation too exhaustin’ as
     a rule;
Or, canted on the smithy coke, he’d hoist his
     feet and yawn,
His boots slid up his shinbones, and his pants
     displayin’ brawn: 
And if the copper chanced along ’twas beauty-
     ful to see
Joe wear away and made hisself a fadest
     memory.

Then came the universal nark.  The Kaiser
     let her rip. 
They cleared the ring.  The scrap was for the
     whole world’s championship. 
Jo Brown was takin’ notice, lurkin’ shy be-
     neath his hat,
And every day he crept to see the drillin’ on
     the flat. 
He waited, watchin’ from the furze the blokes
     in butcher’s blue,
For the burst of inspiration that would tell him
     what to do.

He couldn’t lean, he couldn’t lie.  He yelled
     out in the night. 
Jo understood—­he’d all these years been
     spoilin’ for a fight! 
Right into things he flung himself.  He
     took his kit and gun,
Mooched gladly in the dust, or roasted gaily
     in the sun. 
“Gorstruth,” he said, with shining eyes, “it
     means a frightful war,
‘N’ now I know this is the thing that Heaven
     meant me for.”

Jo went away a corporal and fought again the
     Turk,
And like a duck to water Joey cottoned to the
     work. 
If anythin’ was doin’ it would presently come
     out
That Joseph Brown from Booragool was there
     or thereabout. 
He got a batch of medals, and a glorious
     renown
Attached all of a sudden to the name of
     Sergeant Brown.

Then people talked of Joey as the dearest
     friend they had;
They were chummy with his uncles, or ac-
     quainted with his dad. 
Joe goes to France, and presently he figure as
     the best
Two-handed all-in fighter in the armies of the
     West,
And men of every age at home and high and
     low degree,
We gather now, once went to school with
     Sergeant Brown, V.C.