Digger Smith by Clarence James Dennis (a book to read .TXT) 📕

it right.
'E's been once wounded, somewhere in the leg. . . ."
"'Ere, Bill! Yeh gone to sleep?" asks Peter Begg.

I plays me Queen uv Spades; an' plays 'er bad.
Begg snorts. . . . "My boy," sighs Missus Flood. "My Jim." . . .
"King 'ere," laughs Poole. "That's the last Spade I 'ad." . . .
Doreen she smiles: "I'm glad yeh've 'eard from 'im.". . .
"We're done," groans Begg. "Why did yeh nurse yer Ace?". . .
"My Jim!" An' there was sunlight in 'er face.

"I always thought a lot uv Jim, I did,"
Sez Begg. "'E does yeh credit. 'Ere, your deal."
"That's so," sez Poole. "'E was an all-right kid.
No trumps? I'm sorry that's the way yeh feel.
'Twill take yeh all yer time to make the book." . . .
An' then Doreen sends me a wireless look.

I gets the S.O.S.; but Begg is keen.
"My deal," 'e yaps. "Wot rotten cards I get."
Ole Missus Flood sits closer to Doreen.
"The best," she whispers, "I ain't told yeh yet."
I strains me ears, an' leads me King uv Trumps.
"Ace 'ere!" grins Begg. Poole throws 'is Queen--an' thumps.

"That saves me Jack!" 'owls Begg. "Tough luck, ole sport." . . .
Sez Missus Flood, "Jim's won a medal too
For doin' somethin' brave at Bullycourt." . . .
"Play on, play on," growls Begg. "It's up to you."
Then I reneges, an' trumps me partner's Ace,
An' Poole gets sudden murder in 'is face.

"I'm sick uv this 'ere game," 'e grunts. "It's tame."
"Righto," I chips. "Suppose we toss it in?"
Begg don't say nothin'; so we sling the game.
On my wife's face I twigs a tiny grin.
"Finished?" sez she, su'prised. "Well, p'r'aps it's right.
It looks to me like 'earts was trumps to-night."

An' so they was. An', say, the game was grand.
Two hours we sat while that ole mother told
About 'er Jim, 'is letter in 'er 'and,
An', on 'er face, a glowin' look that rolled
The miles all up that lie 'twixt France an' 'ere,
An' found 'er son, an' brought 'im very near.

A game uv Bridge it was, with 'earts for trumps.
We was the dummies, sittin' silent there.
I knoo the men, like me, was feelin' chumps:
Foolin' with cards while this was in the air.
It took Doreen to shove us in our place;
An' mother 'eld the lot, right from the Ace.

She told us 'ow 'e said 'e'd writ before,
An' 'ow the letters must lave gone astray;
An' 'ow the stern ole father still was sore,
But looked like 'e'd be soft'nin', day by day;
'Ow pride in Jim peeps out be'ind 'is frown,
An' 'ow the ole fool 'opes to 'ide it down.

"I knoo," she sez. "I never doubted Jim.
But wot could any mother say or do
When pryin' folks asked wot become uv 'im,
But drop 'er eyes an' say she never knoo.
Now I can lift me 'ead to that sly glance,
An' say, 'Jim's fightin', with the rest, in France.'"

An' when she's gone, us four we don't require
No gossipin' to keep us in imploy.
Ole Poole sits starin' 'ard into the fire.
I guessed that 'e was thinkin' uv 'is boy,
'Oo's been right in it from the very start;
An' Poole was thinkin' uv a father's part.

An' then 'e speaks: "This war 'as turned us 'ard.
Suppose, four year ago, yeh said to me
That I'd sit 'eedless, starin' at a card
While that ole mother told--Good Lord!" sez 'e
"It takes the women for to put us wise
To playin' games in war-time," an' 'e sighs.

An' 'ere Doren sets out to put 'im right.
"There's games an' games," she sez. "When women starts
A hand at Bridge like she 'as played to-night
It's Nature teachin' 'em to make it 'earts.
The other suits are yours," she sez; "but then,
That's as it should be, seein' you are men."

"Maybe," sez Poole; an' both gits up to go.
I stands beside the door when they are gone,
Watchin' their lantern swingin' to an' fro,
An' 'ears Begg's voice as they goes trudgin' on:
"If you 'ad led that Queen we might 'ave made. . . ."
"Rubbidge!" shouts Poole. "You mucked it with yer Spade!"



III. DAD


Dad


I've knowed ole Flood this last five year or more;
I knoo 'im when 'is Syd went to the war.
A proud ole man 'e was. But I've watched 'im,
An' seen 'is look when people spoke uv Jim:
As sour a look as most coves want to see.
It made me glad that this 'ere Jim weren't me.

I sized up Flood the first day that we met--
Stubborn as blazes when 'is mind is set,
Ole-fashioned in 'is looks an' in 'is ways,
Believin' it is honesty that pays;
An' still dead set, in spite uv bumps 'e's got,
To keep on honest if it pays or not.

Poor ole Dad Flood, 'e is too old to fight
By close on thirty year; but, if I'm right
About 'is doin's an' about 'is grit,
'E's done a fair bit over 'is fair bit.
They are too old to fight, but, all the same,
'Is kind's quite young enough to play the game.

I've 'eard it called, this war--an' it's the truth--
I've 'eard it called the sacrifice uv youth.
An' all this land 'as reckernized it too,
An' gives the boys the praises that is doo.
I've 'eard the cheers for ev'ry fightin' lad;
But, up to now, I ain't 'eard none for Dad.

Ole Flood, an' all 'is kind throughout the land,
They ain't been 'eralded with no brass band,
Or been much thought about; but, take my tip,
The war 'as found 'em with a stiffened lip,
'Umpin' a load they thought they'd dropped for good,
Crackin' reel 'ardy, an'--jist sawin' wood.

Dad Flood, 'is back is bent, 'is strength is gone;
'E'd done 'is bit before this war come on.
At sixty-five 'e thought 'is work was done;
'E gave the farmin' over to 'is son,
An' jist sat back in peace, with 'is ole wife,
To spend content the ev'nin' uv 'is life.

Then come the war. An' when Syd 'esitates
Between the ole folk an' 'is fightin' mates,
The ole man goes outside an' grabs a hoe.
Sez 'e, "Yeh want to, an' yeh ought to go.
Wot's stoppin' yeh?" 'E straightens 'is ole frame.
"Ain't I farmed long enough to know the game?"

There weren't no more to say. An' Syd went--West:
Into the sunset with ole Aussie's best.
But no one ever 'eard no groans from Dad.
Though all 'is pride an' 'ope was in that lad
'E showed no sign excep' to grow more grim.
'Is son was gone--an' it was up to 'im.

One day last month when I was down at Flood's
I seen 'im strugglin' with a bag uv spuds.
"Look 'ere," I sez, "you let me spell yeh, Dad.
You 'umpin' loads like that's a bit too bad."
'E gives a grunt that's more than 'arf a groan.
"Wot's up?" 'e snaps. "Got no work uv yer own?"

That's 'im. But I've been tippin' that the pace
Would tell; an' when 'is wife comes to our place,
An' sez that Dad is ill an' took to bed,
Flat out with work--though that ain't wot she said--
I ain't su'prised; an' tells 'er when I'm thro'
I'll come across an' see wot I can do.

I went across, an'--I come back again.
Strike me! it's no use reas'nin' with some men.
Stubborn ole cows! I'm sick uv them ole fools.
The way 'e yells, "Keep yer 'ands off my tools!"
Yeh'd think I was a thief. 'Is missus said
I'd better slope, or 'e'd be out uv bed.

'E 'eard us talkin' through the open door.
"'Oo's that?" 'e croaks, altho' 'e tries to roar.
An' when 'is wife ixplains it's only me
To 'elp a bit: "I want no charity!"
'E barks. "I'll do me work meself, yeh 'ear?"
An' then 'e gits so snarky that I clear.

But 'e'll do me. I like the ole boy's nerve.
We don't do nothin' that 'e don't deserve;
But me an' Peter Begg an' ole man Poole,
We fairly 'as our work cut out to fool
The sly ole fox, when we sneaks down each day
An' works a while to keep things under way.

We digs a bit, an' ploughs a bit, an' chops
The wood, an' does the needful to 'is crops.
We does it soft, an' when 'e 'ears a row
'Is missus tells 'im it's the dog or cow.
'E sez that it's queer noises for a pup.
An'--there'll be ructions when ole Flood gits up.

It ain't all overwork that's laid 'im out.
Ole Pride in 'im is fightin' 'ard with Doubt.
To-day 'is wife sez, "Somethin's strange in 'im,
For in 'is sleep sometimes 'e calls for Jim.
It's six long years," she sez, an' stops to shake
'Er 'ead. "But 'e don't mention 'im awake."

Dad Flood. I thought 'im jist a stiff-necked fool
Before the war; but, as I sez to Poole,
This war 'as tested more than fightin' men.
But, say, 'e is an 'oly terror when
Friends try to 'elp 'im earn a bite an' sup.
Oh, there'll be 'Ell to pay when 'e gits up!



IV. DIGGER SMITH


Digger Smith


'E CALLS me Digger; that's 'ow 'e begins.
'E sez 'e's only 'arf a man; an' grins.
Judged be 'is nerve, I'd say 'e was worth two
Uv me an' you.
Then 'e digs 'arf a fag out uv 'is vest,
Borrers me matches, an' I gives 'im best.

The first I 'eard about it Poole told me.
"There is a bloke called Smith at Flood's," sez 'e;
Come there this mornin', sez 'e's come to stay,
An' won't go 'way.
Sez 'e was sent there be a pal named Flood;
An' talks uv contracts sealed with Flanders mud.

"No matter wot they say, 'e only grins,"
Sez Poole. "'E's rather wobbly on 'is pins.
Seems like a soldier bloke. An' Peter Begg
'E sez one leg
Works be machinery, but I dunno.
I only know 'e's there an' 'e won't go.

"'E